STORY NUMBER ONE
Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. Capone wasn't
famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in
everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.
Capone had a lawyer nicknamed 'Easy Eddie.' He was Capone's lawyer for
a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie's skill at legal
maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.
To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the
money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well. For instance, he and his
family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the
conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire
Chicago City block.
Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little
consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.
Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved
dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good
education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object.
And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to
teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he
was.
Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he
couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on a good name or a good
example.
One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to
rectify wrongs he had done.
He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al
'Scarface' Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance
of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew
that the cost would be great. So, he testified.
Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a
lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift
he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay. Police removed from
his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from
a magazine. The poem read:
'The clock of life is wound but once,
and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop,
at late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.'
STORY NUMBER TWO
World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant
Commander Butch O'Hare.
He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in
the South Pacific.
One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was
airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to
top off his fuel tank.
He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to
his ship.
His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he
dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.
As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned
his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding its way toward the
American fleet.
The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but
defenseless. He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save
the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger. There was only
one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet.
Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the
formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in,
attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of
the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his
ammunition was finally spent.
Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to
clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible,
rendering them unfit to fly.
Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another
direction.
Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to
the carrier.
Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his
return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It
showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had, in
fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft.
This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became
the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the
Congressional Medal of Honor.
A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His
home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today,
O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great
man.
So, the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give some
thought to visiting Butch's memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of
Honor. It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.
SO .... WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH
OTHER?
