DAILY WEB GRAFFITI ZINE:
Zine 11
Collated by William Hillman

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Do these guys at Radio Shack ever get on your nerves, asking you for a bunch of personal data when you're just there to buy something as simple as a couple AA batteries? I think we should inconvenience these people as much as they do us. A while ago I was in Enid buying a printer cable adaptor and the guy asked me for my name.

"Ghosseindhatsghabyfaird-johnson," I replied.

(blank look of confusion)

"How do you spell that?" he asked, obviously not wanting to know.

"With a hyphen," I clarified

"Once more?" he asked

"Ghosseindhatsghabyfaird-johnson"

"Could you please spell that?" he asked, glancing at the half dozen people waiting behind me.

"Oh... just like it sounds," I said nonchalantly.

Putting down "Johnson," he went on and asked about the address.

"Washburn, Wisconsin, 14701 N.E. Wachatanoobee Parkway, Complex 3, Building O, Appt. 1382b," I replied.

Almost through writing all this down, I said, "Or did you mean current address?"

Stoping, he said, (becoming irritated) "Yes. Current address."

"Diluthian Heights, Mississippi, 1372 S. Tinatonabee Avenue, Building 14C, Suite 2, Box 138201," I replied quite slowly.

Waiting until he finished I said, "No, wait, it's NORTH Tinatonabee Avenue." Annoyed, he backed up and changed it.

"I think," I interjected.

"And is all this correct?" he asked in a standard manner.

"Of course not," I replied, leaving, "If you want my REAL name and address, look at the damned credit card receipt."

A little mean, I must admit, but no jury would convict me... at least, none that had been to Radio Shack.

But there's more to the Frank Luke story than brave deeds in the skies above France. A most unusual event is recorded in the family Bible. It took place six thousand miles from the war, back home at Frank's parents' house in Phoenix, Arizona.

In September 1917, at age twenty, Frank was a handsome, happy-go-lucky lad. Fascinated by the new flying machines as a teenager, he joined the army and was accepted into flight training. At the end of his training, he was commissioned as a second lieutenant and given a fourteen-day leave. He went to Phoenix to be with his family one last time before going off to war.

One day during the leave, Frank was heading off to pal around with some old classmates. On his way out the door, his mother, Tillie, stopped him. She laid a hand on his arm and said, "Frank, dear, I've been meaning to ask you to plant some lily bulbs for me. The weather's so perfect for it today. Would you mind terribly?"

Tillie was known for her sweet and amiable nature, and Frank was happy to oblige her. He took the bag of bulbs and spent some time alone in the front yard before leaving to find his friends. Just a few days later, he shipped out to join the war in France.

Frank's tour of duty was uneventful until September 1918. During that month he came to specialize in the destruction of German observation balloons, as well as other enemy aircraft. In a seventeen-day period, Frank broke every record for downing enemy aircraft. Dubbed the "Balloon Buster," he destroyed one after another, sometimes with his partner and sometimes on his own. On one astounding mission, he shot down three planes and two balloons in just ten minutes. All together, in those few days Frank accounted for fourteen balloons and four German planes. He was christened the American "Ace of Aces" of his day.

Back in Phoenix, the family read about Frank's brave exploits in the newspapers. Then, on September 29, his mother stepped into the front yard to find an amazing sight. The lilies that Frank had planted on leave had suddenly burst into bloom – strangely out of season in September. But that wasn't all. Once blooming, it was clear that they formed the cross-like shape of a World War I airplane! Frank was crazy about airplanes and also a devout Catholic, so his intention could have been either.

The family members gathered and exclaimed at the sight, saying those lilies should have bloomed in June, not September! And, how like Frank it was to have planted them in some special way. Word of the marvel spread. A newspaper photographer came to the house and that week the Sunday paper ran a photo of Tillie standing beside the cross of lilies.

But, from the first moment she saw them, Tillie's response to the flowers was one of sorrow. She brushed away tears, certain that something must be wrong with Frank.

On November 25, two weeks after the Armistice ended World War I, Tillie's fears were realized. The family received notification from the Red Cross that Frank was missing in action. They would learn much later that Frank had single-handedly shot down three German observation balloons on his last mission. He was wounded in flight and managed to land without crashing in Murvaux. But his wounds were severe, and he died later that day.

Frank Luke, Jr., had made his final heroic flight on September 29 – the day the lilies bloomed.