The wreck of the little Curtis seaplane needed to be brought up and moved.
Al Hanson had made several efforts to get permission to salvage the wreckage of the plane. The law allowed the owners or insurance companies a certain number of days before the wreck became public domain. Al's main concern was the amount of oil and gasoline leaking into the "Glass Bottom" boat area. Without the proper permits nothing could be done. The leak was starting to cause real damage.

Then one bright morning I'm woke up by a "knock" on my door. The guy on the other end of the "knock" is a short slender man with red hair and a thick "cockney" accent. His name was Geoffrey Miller. He was looking for Al Hanson. Said he was having a try at raising the seaplane. Needed to borrow something for the dive.

Salvage diving at the end of world war two sort of came into it's own. Lots of people had been trained by the military and civilian industry. Good money made fast if you could get to the job and had equipment to do the work. 

The salvage work also created a lot of "Gypsy" operations that hurt the divers that were trying to make a honest living. Mr. Miller was a Gypsy. Basically he would work cheaper than the legitimate divers. He could do that by being a borrower and a "bum". We didn't see many of these gypsies which was just as well. Al tended to be a "push over" for these guys.

Actually Miller was better set up than your regular Gypsy. He had a fair boat and gear as well as a two man crew. His worst failing was his diving suit and the associated gear that went with it.  Long ago worn out it needed replacement not repair. The problem today was the need for proper ballast weights. Deep sea diving suits were at that time just basically big rubberized canvas balloons. A far cry from the wet suits of today. The old suits filled with air and gave the user a definite "Pillsbury Dough Boy " appearance. The air was vented out of the suit but the suit still tended to want to float which was counter productive to sinking of course.

Our friend Geoff needed some more weight so he could be freer to move around at depth. There was a slight current at the crash spot which caused the diver to get "buffeted" around some. We had plenty of ballast weights. We made our own using molten lead and molds that Al kept at the Abalone plant.  We had breast plate molds, shoe molds and ingot molds for the weight belts. The belts were special, made from a heavy duty webbing material. Ours were surplus BAR ammo bandoleers. They had special heavy suspenders and a fast break away safety buckle. Both were features that Al insisted on.

Miller was going to dive on Wednesday morning so he came by on Tuesday and and borrowed one hundred pounds of lead ingots. Al and Norma would also be back Wednesday morning. I was told to be ready to work that day.

It turned out to be a fine day. It was also to be my first day working with Johnny. Al had two kids from his first marriage. A daughter named Mary and a son my age named Johnny. Johnny was a hard "read". He and I were friends from the start but there was a definite "rift" between him and his dad.

We all boarded the Jeanie Too at the Abalone dock and set out along the coast headed to where the Davey Jones and the Flying Dutchman were anchored. The little diesel engine in the Jeanie chugged along making that popping noise that only a boat can make. Wasn't long before we rounded the point where the boardwalk ended and Avalon came into view. 

The Miller crew was already about and hard at it. Miller himself was suiting up to go down and waved at us as we tied up to our diving barge.

We went about getting everything awake and going. We would have"Glass Bottom Boat" tourist today as well as some painting and up keep on the Davey Jones. Gonna get real busy alright.

My mom used to tell the story about me and a strange old woman called Mamie Odom. Seems I wandered off and got in a swarm of bee's . Got stung so bad that my head swelled up like a big pumpkin. I was a sickly two year old with no medical help. Pretty much  destined to be one of life's write offs. My mother went all up and down that country back road begging someone to help us. Finally we found ourselves standing in that old womans yard. End of the line.

Rumor was that Mamie was a witch. Strange that in my life time I would mesh with the past and future,   caught between witchcraft and cyber space.  My mom asked for help of any kind. She told Mamie that she feared her little boy was going to die from all the poison in the bee stings. The old woman told her that today wasn't  going to be that day. She began to rub and stroke my head. My pain went away as the old womans eyes filled with tears and pain. She actually took my pain and suffering on to her self. My experiences with Mamie would mark me to a degree. I was to become very close to her. I guess the only thing she ever had family wise was me. I have to admit that alot of my ways and superstitions are rooted in the time I spent around her.

I mention all this because it always has and will continue to have an affect on my life. Recall the times I've spoke of knowing better but having to follow the opposite course to satisfy that desire to be where I don't need to be. Today was about to become one of those days. I sensed it and felt it. A cold shiver ran through me as everything went into a frozen fixed frame state. Someone was screaming. I couldn't see them but I could hear them. 

Miller was in trouble. I was able to finally get my act together and make out what the shouting was all about. Our entire crew was now back on the Jeanie Too and headed toward the other diving crew. Al was already getting into his gear. We had two people in the water trying to help Miller but he was down at eighty feet and beyond where those guys could go.  I was having a real bad feeling about this. We were out of time already.  Miller was dead. Why??  Plain old carelessness. Drowned because he couldn't get rid of his weight belt ballist. He had tangled his lines in the wreckage. Not a too uncommon event. The lines can be jetisoned using a quike disconnect. Then its a matter of using the bouyency of the suit to float you to the surface. Just shed weight and rise to the top. Usually about a four minute window exist. More than enough time. Miller had managed to dump everything but the belt. Because he had used wire to tie it on, he couldn't get it off easily. The extra time and panic was his undoing. I had a hard time couping with Millers death. I felt that the extra weights I'd loaned him some how made me responsible. We should have left everything alone.