On June 30, we learned some exciting news! Namely, that The Legend of Pancho Barnes was nominated for a Los Angeles Area Emmy® Award in the Arts & Culture / History category.   Los Angeles Area Emmy® Awards are given for broadcast achievements produced or solely financed and controlled by the Los Angeles television stations or cable television systems.

The Academy of Television Arts & Sciences, and the Los Angeles Area Awards Committee, comprised of station program and news directors, determines the awards structure.

The awards ceremony will be held August 6, 2011 at The Academy of Television Arts & Sciences in North Hollywood.  We're absolutely thrilled to have our show, and host station KOCE-TV (PBS of Orange County, California) recognized in this manner.

Artifacts have been on my mind recently for one simple reason — I was just interviewed for a TV show called History Detectives that uses unique, antique items to delve into history.  Anyway, it got me thinking.  Out of all the "Pancho" things I saw that day, and in the subsequent months and then years (!) of work on the film, certain artifacts in Lou and Mike’s collection really stand out.  For example, there are stacks of photos of Pancho shot by famed Hollywood photographer George Hurrell, each one of them painting a different portrait of this tough, wonderful woman.  There is an actual painting, done sometime after she returned from Mexico by an anonymous artist, a stylized scene showing Pancho the adventurer standing on the deck of a sailing ship in her masculine disguise.  There is the wild and crazy poster promoting Pancho's rodeo, featuring her own version of a nude Lady Godiva and a note that "children are welcome" to attend.  There is a pistol, an ancient and probably non-firing relic that Pancho supposedly kept hidden in her famous bar just below the cash register, in case some of the customers got a little too rowdy.  And there is that pilot’s license, signed by Orville Wright and featured prominently in our film.

But none of these can really compare to the one wonderful artifact that I saw that first day, that last item in fact which was at the very bottom of Lou’s cardboard box.  It was something I initially thought must be a photo album, because it was just over a foot long by maybe ten inches high, and a couple inches thick, and had a 1940s wooden cover decorated with a cut-out bucking bronco (see photo above).  I was disappointed to open it and see there were no photos in this album, and then stunned to realize what it really was: the guest book from the Happy Bottom Riding Club, circa 1946-47.   I flipped through its pages and found a window into the era of “The Right Stuff”, and a real testament to the affection all the greatest pilots in the world had for Pancho.  They loved her and her establishment, and the fact that it was one place they could truly let their hair down and have some fun.

Flip through the pages of the guest book with me now and you’ll see some things that draw a smile, many of them — what can we say — typical of bad boy pilots then and now.  The drawing at left is typical.  There's also a nude with the caption “It’s tough to find in these here parts”, scrawled by Republic Aviation’s Nicholas Marchitell.  Another inscription points an arrow between a set of sexy legs with the comment, “Kilroy was here!”  “If you ever get her address,” writes Walter Moore next to a similar sketch of a vivacious-looking bunny, ”let me know.”

So the majority of the sketches in the book are primitive or a tad obscene, and the best are usually both.  But others are neither…  On one page Ward Kimball, one of Walt Disney’s best animators, drew a sweet cartoon depicting a flight up to the ranch with his wife Betty.  “Shooting stars all night!” is the caption, and if you’ve been in the Mojave Desert at night you know the magic of which he writes.

A few notable scribbles are a bit cryptic, but give a hint at what went on at Pancho’s place — stress relief.  People imbibing to the point where they’d see not only shooting stars but pink elephants. “We all enjoyed our visit and drinks” writes someone with a wink, while another comments “it’s been quite an experience” and a third comments “while we are still able to write, our names are Lucille and Walter.”   Another visitor, Walter Muller, dubs Pancho’s place the “World’s greatest service station” and it certainly must have been.  The next nearest food and libation was quite a long ways away, and the proprietor couldn’t of had a hundredth of Pancho’s character.

Famous names abound on these brittle pages, and while the ink may slightly faded and the handwriting hard to decipher, it’s worth the trouble to try.  Pilots and aviation folks like Dick Frost, Walter Williams, and Gene May are all here. In October of 1947, probably just days before it happened, May wrote “Pancho — a big party is scheduled at Rancho Oro Verde upon accomplish of Mach 1.00  Look forward!”   Below that is an inscription by one J.W. Russell stating, “Supersonic days are here.”  Just a few pages away the man who made it happen, Capt. Chuck Yeager, penciled in a “reservation” for New Year’s Eve (above).  His rival, Bell pilot Chalmers “Slick” Goodlin also put his inscription on the very first page of the book, dated December 10, 1946, along with this fitting comment that seems to just sum up the place: “Anything can happen here  — and usually does.”

It’s so much fun to flip through this book, that you feel cheated when it abruptly ends, sometime in December of 1947.  Certainly there must have been more —  but perhaps the other guest books (if there were any) were consumed in the fire that destroyed Pancho’s spread, forever relegating the place to memory and lore.  The wonderful thing is, at least this piece of history survives and, thanks to Lou D’Elia and Mike Salazar, it can be preserved and shared with the world and today, with you!

We all know life is full of ups and downs, and unexpected turns. Ask anyone who has seen our documentary: Pancho Barnes’ story certainly epitomizes the concept. When people ask, as they do on occasion, what lesson we might distill from her story Amanda and I often reply that Pancho “was a woman who got knocked down a lot, but never out. She came back fighting all the time.” Persistence in the face of challenge was this woman’s whole way of life, and she completely re-invented herself in the face of adversity not once but a dozen times. Her name says it all: she transformed from the demure socialite wife of South Pasadena’s Reverend Rankin Barnes -- “Florence Lowe Barnes” -- to a tough customer who dressed like a man, talked like a man, and smoked like a man, but who from that point forward did things few men even dared to do, redefined as that delicious yet indelicate persona “Pancho Barnes”. That first reinvention was of course the most important, but hardly the last. No wonder that on occasion, I’ve signed a DVD jacket with the words, “Don’t let the weenies get you down!” It’s not something I think Pancho ever said, but those are words I think she would believe in.

As some of you know onJune 27th, 2009 I was in Tucson, Arizona to present The Legend of Pancho Barnes as part of our barnstorming series of screenings. Only, this was no ordinary showing. It was intended as a joint fundraiser both for the film, and as an event for my friend Rep. Gabrielle Giffords’ re-election campaign. This was not so much a case of a partisan display as much as it was a gesture of friendship. You see, Gabby Giffords and I went to University High School together in Tucson, and we’ve been in touch on-and-off ever since. Friends of mine have worked diligently on Gabby’s campaigns, and I’ve followed her political progress from day one, in 2001, when she was elected to the Arizona House of Representatives to 2006, when she ran for U.S. Congress. Screening in Tucson for Gabby, and with many mutual friends in attendance, how neat.

Funny how life works. I am a person who reads a lot of history, and works in the historical realm, and has many heroes from history -- Pancho for one, but there are many others. Most are people from other eras; few are actually alive today. Yet there are people in this modern world who I’ve come very much to admire. But in the media-saturated world we live in – where people are built up only to be torn down -- it’s always been difficult for me to label a public figure a personal hero. I realized at some point that Gabby was an exception, perhaps because I knew her personally, but also because I knew her vivacious, tough, strong spirit. I knew that she was politically active for all the right reasons, and I saw what she did in her campaigns and in office -- she was consistently great. Gabby fought for what she believed in and, at a time when government often seems to be at a standstill, full of partisan rancor and gridlock, she was a voice of reason. I knew from tracking her, that she made a tremendous difference to her constituents. So in addition to having my friendship, Gabby gained my admiration and my respect, in a way I would never have imagined possible back in high school.

This was the reason I jumped at the opportunity to go to Tucson and screen the film for her supporters. Showing Pancho for Gabby just seemed so right in spirit. Here was a woman who, like Pancho, showned the ability to re-invent herself (it’s a long story but after high school Gabby seemed destined to either be working on Wall Street or in the “buck stretching” tire business), a great debater who fought tirelessly, wouldn’t take no for an answer if she believed she was right, a smart and savvy woman who knew the value of hard work and friendship, a lady who could talk eloquently on the floor of the House yet knew how to ride a horse and shoot a gun like a true rancher, a caring person who knew how to reach out and help people.

All of this great stuff, I wanted to say after the lights came up at our screening event! I thought a great way to start was to talk about the similarities between Pancho Barnes and Gabby. Well, the audience was having none of it! The moment I even began to make the slightest comparison between the two, a titter and then a roar of laughter rang through the auditorium and would not stop. Gabby, standing by my side with the microphone, had a big grin plastered on her face and was already launching into an emphatic denial. “Uhhh….!” You see I’d simply forgotten, that while Gabby and Pancho may have many things in common, one thing they do not is: looks. Gabby, with her winsome smile and petite figure, is blessed in that department. Pancho as we know was beyond the reach of “Oil of Olay” – well beyond!

After a good laugh all around, I did manage to make a personal endorsement of Gabby, and basked in a moment of reflected glory. You see, it was clear the real star in the room that day was not Pancho or me, but of course Gabby herself. My wife and I have some precious memories of the screening, including meeting Gabby’s family and her husband astronaut Commander Mark Kelly. It was a wonderful event that really seemed like one of the brightest moments of the year.

In between screenings and trips, I followed Gabby’s re-election campaign. It was incredibly close and looked for a little while like it might not go in her favor. Unlike nearly every other race, it was not called on election night. But finally a few days later I heard that Gabby had won, albeit by the narrowest of margins: just four thousand votes. A win is a win, is a win, and I let out a little cheer. Then a few weeks later I got a form letter in the mail, remarking on the victory. At the bottom was a hand signed flourish: “Nick, thank you for the last minute infusion of Pancho Barnes passion! It must have some great power. … So happy to have you help.”

I can’t look at that letter today without deep sadness. The emptiness and the melancholy that has affected me, and many of my friends in Tucson and our extended families across the country in recent weeks, is hard to bear. We lost six great people the other day in Tucson, and Gabby was terribly injured and hung on only thanks to luck, heroic action by an aide and medical staff, and her own grit. For now the details of what happened and why they happened, are not important, the important thing is that she has remained with us. This has been a time of reflection, and retrospection, and prayer for a friend and her family. Fortunately with each passing day the news has been encouraging. Surrounded as she is by such strong and caring people, the outcome for Gabby seems hopeful.

For me, the most important thing this month has been to reach out to those I know who have been touched by this senseless tragedy, and to comfort them in any way possible. As part of that effort and to shake off my own sense of helplessness, I contacted friends in my high school class and beyond, and I wrote to the people who arranged the screening. I simply expressed my hope that they can find the strength to get through these tough times, and passed along my hopes for Gabby’s recovery. With time, the news on that front has steadily improved, and just the other day Gabby left the ICU to begin rehab. It’s remarkable given the odds.

Anyway, I guess despite my efforts to be positive in the face of all this chaos, and despite some good news, some melancholy must have crept into one of my recent emails. I was surprised the other day to get a gentle reprimand from Gabby’s staffer Linda Quinn in my in-box. “You know full well that Gabby has as much determination and grit as Pancho,” she wrote in her email. “We’ll get all three of you together at some future point and do another screening.” Well Linda of course I have realized, that you are absolutely, exactly, perfectly damn right. If anyone could stage a comeback from this, it’s going to be Gabby Giffords. I’d absolutely bet on it, because she’s got that Pancho spirit. Even given her situation, Gabby remains a leader -- a force of nature who is as inspiring many people in this moment of personal crisis; in fact she is as inspiring as she’s ever been. She’s tough, and by golly, she’s defied the odds and escaped by narrow margins many times before. There’s simply no reason to believe she can’t do it again.  She's down but she’s not out, and I have every reason to believe she's going to come back fighting like a champ.  It appears she's already doing just that . . .

****

Some friends of mine, and fans of the film, have generously asked what they can do regarding the situation in Tucson. I will simply repeat here what Gabby's husband Mark Kelly stated in a brief press release: "There is little that we can do but pray for those who are struggling. If you are inspired to make a positive gesture, consider two organizations that Gabby has long valued and supported: Tucson’s Community Food Bank and the American Red Cross."

Community Food Bank
3003 S Country Club Rd # 221
Tucson, AZ 85713-4084
(520) 622-0525

American Red Cross, Southern Arizona Chapter
2916 East Broadway Boulevard
Tucson, AZ 85716
(520) 318-6740

This post was originally planned for October but due to some unexpected delays ... well here it is now with apologies.

Pancho's legacy as an aviatrix and adventurer is well known, but one part of her story that I'd like to shed some light on, is not.  Like most of the challenges in her extraordinary life, this one chapter is true to form -- Pancho got knocked down but she got up and came back swinging.  The year was 1958, five years after the biggest shock of her life -- the moment she'd lost her ranch to the U.S. Government in eminent domain.  By now Pancho'd regrouped, having won a substantial monetary settlement.  She and her fourth husband Mac were trying their darndest to start life again, and build a new resort north of Edwards that included an artificial lake and Marina.  That was just about the time that Pancho discovered a small lump in her right breast.  According to Lauren Kessler's biography The Happy Bottom Riding Club, Pancho was initially told that it wasn't cancer.  Three days after celebrating the good news, a letter arrived with a dumbfounding correction: the lump was definitely malignant.  Fearing the absolute worst, Pancho consoled herself by visiting a number of friends.  One of them, pilot Russ Schleeh, had survived a terrible accident a number of years earlier.  The Northrop YB-49 Flying Wing he was conducting high speed taxi tests on, suffered a nosewheel collapse and was consumed in the resulting crash and fire.  Despite a broken back Schleeh managed to get out of the plane, had rehabilitated himself, gotten out of the USAF and gone on to a championship career in boat racing.  "This was the kind of fighter that she needed to talk to," Kessler writes, "the kind of story she needed to hear." 

Photo: Pancho poses with husband Mac in happier days.

She would need all the spirit she could muster.  Breast cancer back in the 50s, before the era of chemotherapy, always meant mastectomy.  It was a much more fearsome surgery than what is performed today (as bad as that is), with the incision running from Pancho's lower rib right up to her armpit.  As Kessler notes, the surgery would leave deep physical scars and cut so much muscle that it even threatened to deprive Pancho with the use of her right arm.  It didn't, but only because Pancho refused to be beaten by the cancer and the surgery — as soon as she got home she began exercising her arm by chopping wood.  It seemed like an outright victory, but in 1960 the specter of death reappeared in the form of a tumor in her left breast.  That was devastating news, coming just after she'd begun to recover from the first surgery.  If the cancer didn't break her at that point the other problems in her life threatened to: by now her marriage to Mac was beginning to fall apart, her government settlement money was nearly all gone, her marina was a dustbowl, and she was by most accounts on the brink of bankruptcy.

The cancer was one more milepost on a long road of decline for Pancho.  By the end of the 1950s she'd be forced to give up the idea of building a new Happy Bottom Riding Club and face a far grimmer, sadder future.  In the coming years she'd lose nearly everything: her real estate holdings and investments, her luxury Cadillacs, her airplanes, her husband, and her health.  But she never lost her sense of perspective, or her sense of humor.  Amazingly, at least some of what she found funny, was directly linked to her cancer.  Pancho had always cultivated an androgynous look — obviously you can't go from being named "Florence" to being called "Pancho" without that.  Now flat-chested, she may have felt even closer to her alternate persona, and tougher too.  She boldly offered to show her surgery scars to anyone who asked about her health, and would crudely announce "I had some health problems so I had to have my tits cut off" just to get a reaction.  In the interview we conducted with Patrice Demory, she recalled that she once went with Pancho to the post office.  It was a memorable day to say the least.  Pancho was delighted to have received a package which she opened to reveal a set of "falsies".  She then proceeded to wave them in the air, approaching bewildered post office customers and staff and announcing with glee that "I finally got my tits!"  Demory herself was shocked and amazed, but says "one of the things I learned from Pancho that I really liked, was that it doesn't matter what kind of fun you are haivng as long as you are not hurting anyone else." 

Fifteen years after Pancho's battle with cancer, she was living all alone in the Mojave Desert, in poor health and scratching out a living.  That's when a fellow named Ted Tate came and knocked on her door.  Tate is generally credited with being the man who helped rehabilitate Pancho, and who (with the help of others) brought the wild card that was Pancho back into the deck at Edwards.  Through their friendship, Pancho would find a new role on the base, make many new friends, and reclaim her position as the "First Lady of Edwards".  For his part, Tate loved to relate the story of his first meeting with Pancho, how he'd knocked on the door of her house, not knowing what to expect.  A harsh voice said through the door, "Are you here on business or is it a social call?"  When Tate responded that it was the latter, Pancho promptly shot back: "Well then give me a minute.  I've got to put my tits on."  It was classic Pancho, in all her faded glory.  Aviatrix, adventurer, legend . . . and breast cancer survivor.