MEDFORD MAIL TRIBUNE. MEDFORD. OREGON
MONDAY. JULY 22, 1963
Life With One-Time U2 Pilot Said Like Disappearing Houdini
Detroit -UPD- Rarhara r.
Powers says her life with
former U2 pilot Francis Gary
Powers "was like being mar
ried to a disappearing Hou
dini." "My husband would appear
out of the blue and vanish
again just as quickly; I never
knew how or why or when,"
Mrs. Powers said in an inter
view with the Detroit Free
Press. .
The attractive 28-year-old
brunette, who was divorced
from Powers last January, is
in Detroit working with a
writer, W. W. Diehl, on her
life story.
Powers, shot down over the
Soviet Union in 1960 and con
victed of spying in a sensa
tional Moscow trial, now is
working as a test engineer for
Lockheed in Burbank, Calif.
The couple met at Turner
Air Force base in Albany, Ga.,
where Powers was an Air
Force pilot and Barbara was
a secretary at a nearby Ma
rine supply depot. They were
married in 1955.
The next year. Powers left
the Air Force. Mrs. Powers
said he told her he was re
signing because "I have a
chance to make a lot of mon
ey . . . ' but Powers wouldn't
say what he was doing, or
where he was going.
"He gave me a fictitious
address and a number I
should call in an extreme
emergency," she said. A few
months later she called the
number and told the man who
answered she was going to
join her husband, who then
was in Greece.
"At first, the man tried to
discourage me," she said. . "I
could hear sounds over the
phone like people whispering
and bustling around. At last
he said, 'All right, Mrs. Pow
ers, go to the King George
Hotel in Athens. Your hus
band will meet you there."
Returned to Georgia
The couple lived in Greece,
But Mrs. Powers was still in
the dark about his job. "Some
times he would pack summer
clothes when he came for his
brief visits, sometimes winter
ones," she said.
"That was the only inkling
I had as to where he might
be going. Most of the time,
I just wondered."
She had to leave Greece
because of Communist rioting,
went to an air base in Tripoli
and then went back to Geor
gia wnere sue had a miscar
riage. Then she went to Tur
key where for the first time
she saw the U2 plane her
husband was flying.
Living was high on the
base near Adana. "I'd be a
fool and a liar not to say
we had some marvelous
times," she said, adding that
"there's no doubt the other
wives (of regular airmen) re
sented our high living."
The U2 pilots on the base
drew up to $2,500 a month.
The end came in the spring
of I960. Powers left on April
27 for an extended flight. He
flew to Pakistan and then on
May 1 left from there on a
3,500-mile flight over Russia.
On May 4, at 5 a.m., Bar
bara was awakened by a
knock on the door of her
trailer home. Mrs. Powers, on
crutches because of a broken
leg suffered while dancing,
hobbled to the door.
Flew to New York
She was greeted by two
men who identified the m
selves as agents of the Cen
tral Intelligence agency. They
told her to pack and come
with them. She flew with
them to New York. i
"I knew something was up,
but I knew it would do no
good to ask." she said. "We
landed at Idlcwild and were
met by a big black limousine.
1 didn't even have to go
through customs."
They drove down to h e r
home. On the way, Mrs. Pow
ers remembered it was Moth
er s day and asked the CIA
men to stop so she could get
a present.
"Finally, just 20 miles from
home, at Eatonton, Ga., they
stopped and told me to go
into a drug store and buy
my gift," she said. "I hobbled
across the street into a drug
store and a big black head
line hit me in the face. Jt
said 'U2 Pilot Shot Down
Over Russia.' "
"My crutches just slid out
from under me and I fainted.
When 1 came to 1 was hys
terical and crying. The two
men had run across the street
to pick me up. They were
crying too.
"But why couldn't they
have told me sooner? Why did
it have to be like that?"
Mrs. Powers went to Rus
sia in August, 1960, for her
husband's trial. He served less
than two years and was ex
changed on Feb. 10,. 1962, for
Russian spv Rudolph Abel.
Looking back on her life as
the wife of a U2 pilot, Mrs.
Powers said "I'm glad it's all
over. We were like prisoners
living in palaces.
When she finishes her book,
she said, she is going some
where and "take a long, long
rest ."
Small Worlds
Around Us
By LYNN M. W ATKINS
(Regi)tor and Tribune
Syndicate- '.63)
Deer Might Be Saved By
Mirrors Set Near Road
The night was very beauti
ful. The road ahead was
straight and smooth. The purr
ing motor seemed eager to go
faster and faster-an invitation
accepted by the driver. The
tires sang a soft, rubbery song,
the air whistled past and the
ribbon of concrete rushed un
der the fast moving car.
Both the driver and his com
panion saw the sign beside the
highway" Caution; Deer Cross
ing." The sign flashed past,
ignored by both occupants of
the car. The car rushed on,
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Pioneer Spirit's Gone
A 3
Dick West Handles The Heavy Work
As Family Prepares Vacation Trip
4r
the headlights shining bright
ly. A sliyht rise and there,
hypnotized by the headlight
glare, stood the deer.
Instinctively, the driver
knew that to swerve merely a
few feet would catapult the
ear into the roadside ditch. He
slammed on the brakes. The
tires squealed, followed by
the sickening thud of a ton
and a half of steel striking a
fleshy body.
Interfere With Pleasure
The deer was dead. The car
was badly smashed. The driv
er was angry. He didn't care
about the deer. He was only
concerned about the car. the
delay and the inconvenience
of being wrecked on the high
way at night. He failed to tin
derstand why such a silly
thing as a dumb animal should
be allowed to interfere with
j his pleasure.
: N a t u r a 1 1 y he completely
overlooked the fact that it was
more his fault than it was the
deer's. He had failed to heed
the warning sign and the fact
that he was exceeding the
speed limit meant nothing to
him. He felt, as altogether too
many people feel, that abso
lutely nothing in this world
should interfere in the slight
est with our right to travel as
we wish.
Imagine such a ridiculous
situation, a four-footed, dumb
animal, causing an accident to
such a superior being as a man
in a motor car; a man and
machine jeopardized by un-!
necessary things.
Is There An Answer?
So, you m i g h t reasonably
ask, is there an answer? There
is, or at least a new thought
offers a partial solution which
gives promise of help for both
the motoring public and a let-
I live formula for the deer and
i other living creatures that
! make the mistake of crossing
a highway at night. Fortim-
ately, the solution will not be
expensive or even dulicult to
put into operation.
Human nature being what
it is, and since animal be
havior follows a fairly wcll-
! known pattern tinder most cir-
I cumstanccs, it would seem that
J the animals are the ones to
make the adjustments. They
can be made to help them
selves in spite of their natural
aptitudes.
Deer cross the highways at
specific points, as testified to
by the signs "deer crossing."
Of course the animals do nol
know what the signs say and
the motoring public doesn't
seem to be attentive to the
fact. The deer's natural ac
tion, when the bright light
strikes its eyes, is to stand mo
tionless and usually right in
the road. Thus, posts might be
set on the sides of the road;
each post equipped with a
mirror and adjusted so that
approaching cars' headlights
strike the reflectors and de
flect, at about a flu-degrec
angle, off into the woods. The
deer, back from the highway,
would be blinded by the light
and remain in the safety of
their own woodland.
By DICK WEST
Washiiigton-iUPli -Where are
the pioneer women of yester
year? What has happened to
the adventur
ous .spirit thiil
sent our fore
mothers trek
k i n g across
the plains in
covered wag
ons? N o w a
days you have
trouble gel
ting a woman
to trek across
an air condi
wagon. Espe
children are
West
the street in
tinned station
cially if her
trekking with her.
The reluctance of modern
women to trek around in a
car full of children is a cause
for national concern.
I encounter trekking resist
ance each summer when we
are planning our vacation. My
wife will argue vehemently
against any trip of more than
five blocks.
At times she resorts to pet
ty obstructionist tactics, like
hiding my road maps.
I might mark thia down
as a case of individual ec
centricity had I not heard
so many other wives voice
aversion to the open road.
Apparently the problem is
widespread.
If there were any real hard
ships involved, I could under
stand it. But everyone who
watches television commer
cials knows that a family can !
travel in these times with
ease and comfort.
I do everything possible to
lighten the load for my wife, i
We divide our vacation prep-1
arations roughly as follows, j
I lay out the route and she
does the packing, takes the !
cat to the boarding kennel, .
slops the milk and paper, ar
ranges to have the mail for
warded, finds someone to wa
ter the flowers, gets the car
serviced, notifies the relatives
that we will be dropping in !
on them, and floats a loan
it the bank. !
It is no easy job to lay
out a routo. but I accept
that chore as part of the
fun of vacations. For some
reason my wife doesn't
seem to regard her assign
ments in the same spirit.
On the road I continue to
accept most of the responsi
bility. 1 do the driving and
she coordinates the bathroom
stops, keeps the baby from I
grabbing the steering wheel,
arbitrates disputes between
the older children, keeps the
baby from climbing out the
window, watches for reslau
rants and motels, and keeps
an eye out for the nignway
patrol.
Travel has a strange effect
on her. For instance, she dis
likes driving, but after 400
or 5011 miles she practically
begs to take the wheel.
In a short while, or ns soon
as I find out what she did
with the car keys, we will
be trekking across the plains
on tins years vacation trip.
I reminded my wife that
my greal-granomoiner cross-
ri the plains with 100 head
of cattle.
"Some people have all the
luck," she said.
-WilttilH It 'l fr'V "IMHW- .
AUTO BOAT
UPHOLSTERING
!K 1 1 h hi i
H
SMALLPOX VANISHING
Stockhnlm-IUI'li-Hcnlth au
thorities indicated today they
soon would declare this cap
ital city free of smallpox
after a virulent outbreak
which killed four persons.
Twenty-five persons contract
ed the disease, believed to
have been brought in by a
sailor.
The Family Council
rmtor'i nnfi: Th Kamll" Cniinril eonnMl ot a ludcr a
fihvlilatritt. llirrn r-lrrKViiirn. tln.fr cdlinm arm a wnmrn's f-illlnr.
Y.tvh artltlr t a umirary uf a family flHAnreement preariilrd In the
f.f.unrtl ihr C.tunri! deal wtih prnlilrnt. malnr and m'mtr,
Mirnnt:rd ty ciiiriftnr-f. rnurmlim and norm workers, t.diud by
lira. A.ma Ilrnny. r:upyrlclit by General featurta Corp.)
Mr. R. F.-Slop the lessons
and put us nut of the misery.
Mrs. Ft. F.-He'll be glad
we're forcing him lo stick
with it.
-I wish my wife
un on piano les-
Mr. R. F
would give
sons for our son.
probably like me,
Added lo that, I have the
feeling he bangs all the wrong
notes on purpose so that the
whole family will join in beg
ging for an end to his musical
career.
Mrs. R. F. -Roger is 10.
Once he gets past the scales
and finger exercises, his teach
er will start him on pieces
with which he can accom
pany his 14-year-old sister
who plays the violin. She used
to hate taking lessons, too,
but now she's delighted to
be able to play.
The Council! It's no news thai
a child groans squirms, re
bel at sticking to something
hard - - especially when it
isn't his own idea in the first
plate. Then consider the cold
water on Mom's ardor, hurled
by a non imisical Dad, plus
a sibling desire to be as un-i
like his older sister as possi-1
ble. and the Menuhin-like i
dreams nf Mrs. F. collapse
completely. And yet. all is
nolAiost. To Mr. F, we say,
use earplugs and hush, for
the once. If you'd had a per
sistent parent, as has your
son, your musical soul might
have come through. Kxpcrls
insist, everybody has some
music in him- it's as basic as
Roger is nls neari-neai ana neeo only
tone-deaf. nc developed. I'roticicncy
isn l sissy, as witness mili
tary bands and church choirs.
To Mrs. F.: Struggle through
a full year of lessons, even
if you don't renew. Roger
will have the rudiments.
Many's the mitldlc-ager who
returns to the piano-leacht r
eagerly. What was The Big
Bore at age 10 becomes The
Big Trial at age 50. Lei's
hope the F.'a live to see the
day. quite possible, when
Roger rushes lo the piano for
his daily hour of creation.
I relaxation, and peace. The fin
I gers of the adult struminer
j may be fumbling, but they are
I not reluctant.
Do FALSE TEE! H
Rock, Slide or Slip?
rTFETH. n Imprnvpd powrlff 0
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