Sunday, August 28, 2011

Swimming With Sharks




My paternal great grandfather – William Anton Rank was Conrad Hilton’s partner in the very early days of Hilton Hotels.  He was also a distant relative.  After Conrad and my great grandfather went their separate ways, my great grandfather started a chain of hotels in California and El Paso, Texas.  My grandfather – Bill Rank took over the family business after his father William died but unfortunately was mugged and killed in El Paso as he was delivering payroll for the hotel; the killers were never caught.


My grandfather had been a very wealthy man and as a result of his murder, my father inherited millions of dollars in the mid 60’s for his 18th birthday.  My father took his millions and moved to Los Angeles where he got into the television and music business, just after I was born.  Unfortunately, he’d not have much to do with me again until I was 13.  My father enjoyed some success, producing a few TV shows and one record that hit the top 20.  My father too was killed while he was still young in a hot air balloon accident; I was 14.

In my early 20’s, I felt like I needed to learn more about my father and his life since I didn’t have much time with him, so I began looking up his old friends and partners.  One of my fathers’ partners was a very successful television producer in Los Angeles by the name of Sam Riddle.  Sam had produced shows such as Almost Anything Goes and Star Search, he was also featured in the Elvis Presley movie “Clam Bake”.  At the time I met Sam, he was the Executive Producer of Star Search, he was on top of the world.  I arranged a dinner with Sam in Beverly Hills and little did I know just how much my life would change that night.

Sam took me to what was the fanciest restaurant I’d ever been to in my life.  It was beautiful, there were celebrities, the food was amazing and very, very expensive.  I was young, Sam was successful and famous and right there and then I made a decision, I was going to become a Hollywood Producer like Sam Riddle.

I didn’t see Sam again for several years but I had my plan in place and I’m here to tell you that I executed it perfectly.  I called Sam constantly asking him for a job, I was relentless.  I had no experience, no idea what to expect but I was going to get a job with Sam Riddle if it killed me.  Finally, after over 2 years of pestering him, Sam Riddle called me.  He was preparing to produce a new kids’ show in Orlando, Florida called “Out of the Blue”.  Sam told me that if I could find my own way to Orlando, find my own place to stay, work for free and do everything he told me to, that I could have a job.

At the time Sam called me offering me the non-paying job, I lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  In record time, I had my pickup truck loaded with my stuff and was on my way to Orlando, Florida!

My stay in Orlando was absolutely amazing.  My plan was to work my fingers to the bone so that Sam Riddle would offer me a permanent "paying" job and that’s just what happened.  I’d go to work before the sun came up and return home late at night, seven days a week.  Within a short period of time, I went from being the guy who got coffee and shuttled laundry to the dry cleaner to an Associate Producer on “Out of the Blue” and working on shows all over the United States.  This was easily one of the happiest times of my life.  I felt pride and confidence like I’d never experienced before.

One of my most memorable experiences producing TV was a show that I did at the Apollo in Harlem.  This was way before Bill and Hillary Clinton set up their offices in Harlem, it was still very rough and not many white folk spent time there.  We were producing a show called “The Lou Rawls Parade of Stars”.  This was a telethon benefitting the United Negro College Fund.  We had dozens of great acts and celebrities; Will Smith, Shaggy, Naughty By Nature, Boyz to Men and President Clinton – to name a few.

When I flew into LaGuardia Airport for the show, it was my first time in New York City.  My only knowledge of NYC was from the movies “The Warriors and Fort Apache the Bronx”.  In my mind, it was a rough city with dangerous gangs, burnt out cars on the side of the roads and abandoned buildings; I was a little nervous. 

As I got off the plane and headed out of the terminal to my limousine, I was welcomed to New York with a surreal fistfight between two cab drivers.  I just stood there looking at these two men kick the shit out of each other right in front of me and thinking to myself, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

The night of the live show came, it was a Friday night and we were about 20 minutes out from going live.  It was a sold out show and it was time for me to let our host know that we needed him on stage.  When I walked into his dressing room, I was greeted with a plume of marijuana smoke.  Our host, who I’ll leave unnamed, was stoned out of his gourd and to make matters worse, he looked it. Our host had 2 women in his dressing room who were both equally as stoned.  When he asked the girls to give him some Visine, they both started to giggle; they didn’t have any.  This really pissed off our host who became very angry and started arguing with the girls. 

I didn’t have time for this nonsense so I said I’d go get some.  Our host told me to go out the front door of the Apollo, take a right and go down two blocks to the drug store.  I was running out of time and tunnel visioned, I needed to get to the drug store and back ASAP.  I was oblivious to my surroundings as I ran down the street.  I entered the drug store, found the Visine and stepped up to the counter.  This is when I had a serious moment of clarity.  There was a large black woman behind the counter.  She was staring right at me shaking her head.  She said “Uhh, uhh, uhh, Crazy White Boy”.  I stood there staring at her, realizing something was very wrong.  As I stepped out the front door of the drug store, it all became crystal clear to me.  I was the only white guy on one of the largest boulevards in Harlem on a Friday night; absolutely everybody was staring at me.

I quickly walked back to the Apollo, very aware of the attention I was drawing; it was frightening.  As I walked up to the Apollo, there were about 5 NYPD officers standing there.  Ironically enough, we’d hired them as security for our production.  One of the officers walked up to me and said in a thick NYC accent “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”.  He then told me to get my ass inside and never do something so stupid again.  This became quite the joke for everybody in the production company and I’ll admit, it scared the shit out of me.

During part of the time I was producing TV, my fiancĂ©e at the time lived in Albuquerque where she was attending the University of New Mexico.  I’d commute from Los Angeles to Albuquerque as often as possible to be with her.  During one trip to Albuquerque, I had a bad case of the flu.  I was stuck in bed, no chance of getting out.  We were very tight on money so we didn’t have cable TV.  I had a choice of watching a PBS sewing show, 2 soap operas or the game show Family Feud with Richard Dawson.  So there I lay, wheezing and shivering while watching Family Feud; I wasn’t a happy camper.  Halfway through the show, I found myself horribly bored and wishing for something better to watch.  I began to imagine how much more exciting Family Feud would be if Richard Dawson was actually playing with his own money!  Then it hit me; this was a great idea for a TV game show.  I grabbed a pen and pad and went to work outlining my show.  By the time the weekend was done, I had the entire format of the show in place and ready to go, all I needed was a host and a sidekick.

My timing couldn’t have been better to have come up with a TV game show like this as the Writers Guild of America was talking about a strike so the networks were looking for shows that wouldn’t rely on the union writers.  Because of this Writers Guild strike, the mid 90’s was the origination of the “Reality TV” phenomenon.  When I returned to Los Angeles, I immediately got together with a former friend and legendary producer – Al Burton.  Al produced numerous famous shows like Charles in Charge, The Boob Tube, Silver Spoons, Diff’rent Strokes, The Jefferson’s, Square Pegs, The Facts of Life and One Day at a Time.  He was very connected and always willing to listen to new ideas.

I told Al that I had a great idea for a new TV game show.  I shared my treatment with Al.  I explained the concept was that the host of the show was given a per episode fee of $5,000.00.  He would then take on 3 contestants each show.  Whatever money the contestants won came directly out of the hosts $5,000.00.  The meant that the host could conceivably go home after an episode with no money!  Al was very excited about my idea; he cleared his schedule and began reaching out to the networks. 

We first pitched the show to Fox Television.  This was very interesting as Al and I were sitting in one of the executives’ offices at Fox preparing for the pitch when 3 well dressed people from the legal department came into the room with recorders and legal pads.  They sat there and scribbled every word we said; it was unnerving.  I finally asked them what they were doing, they told me that Fox had had a bad time with people accusing them of stealing ideas so they were documenting everything at pitch meetings.  Looking back, I should have realized that I too needed to do the same.

My show eventually landed with Buena Vista (Disney).  Our first meeting at Buena Vista was very exciting; their facilities are absolutely amazing.  We met with a man by the name of Andrew Golder.  I’ll never forget Al Burton proudly introducing me to Andrew as “The Golden Boy”.  Andrew loved my idea and wanted to move forward with the show.  I literally had to pinch myself and Al and I left Andrew’s office.  I’d come up with an idea that was going to actually be on television!

Now it was time to really get to work.  I felt that my show needed to have a “Monty Python” feel and suggested we approach John Cleese about being the host and possibly contributing writer.  Al told me that John would never consider this type of show; he was untouchable for a project like this.  I then suggested David Lee Roth of Van Halen, he had been the first person I’d thought of as a host when I came up with the idea for the show.  I knew that he was very smart and witty.  I’d hoped that we could pare him with Pamela Anderson; she’d make a perfect sidekick.  I had been communicating with David’s’ manager at that time about another project.  Al loved the idea of David Lee Roth and suggested we approach him immediately. 

David Lee Roth was offered the position and to my surprise he accepted.  I couldn’t have been more excited as I’m a huge Van Halen fan and the thought of working with Diamond Dave was amazing.  Unfortunately, a few weeks after Dave accepted, he reunited with Van Halen and walked from my show.  I was really let down.  As fate would have it though, his reunion with Van Halen only lasted a couple weeks; he shouldn’t have turned me down. 

Our next potential host was Bobcat Goldthwait.  I wasn’t very excited about this, in my opinion he wasn’t a good fit for my show.  Luckily, he was offered another show and passed on my project. 

Even though I was happy I lost Bobcat, I was also very frustrated; I was back to square one.  Al and I sat down at his house to brainstorm about who could be our host.  We went through hundreds of headshots of known actors, nobody was a fit or they were untouchable.  Then Al Burton looked at me with a big smile and said, “I have an idea”.  He went onto tell me about an old friend of his who was brilliant and had been in a few movies.  The most famous movie he was in was “Ferris Buellers Day Off” and the character he played was the teacher who in a monotone voice said “Anybody, Anybody?”, it was Ben Stein.

We contacted Ben who at the time was teaching at Pepperdine University in Malibu. We asked him to come to Buena Vista Studios to do a “run through”.  A run through is when you do a mock up of a show to see how it flows.  Buena Vista brought in 3 mock contestants to compete with Ben, one of the contestants was a champion from the game show Jeopardy.  Ben didn’t know that this guy was Jeopardy champion; he thought they were just 3 regular people that Disney hired for this run through.  We proceeded to do the run through with Ben taking on the role of the host.  We had prepared a large quantity of questions from easy to very difficult.  Ben played the role perfectly and to our surprise, easily beat the Jeopardy champion; we had our host!

Al and I started fine-tuning the show with Ben Stein in mind.  At one of our meetings, we were trying to come up with a name.  I had found a photo of Ben Stein, cut out his head and pasted it onto a dollar bill.  I showed Al Burton the bill and said to him “Ben Stein’s Money”.  From that moment on the show was called “Win Ben Stein’s Money”.

We now needed to find the “sidekick” for the show, Ben was the perfect host but he was very “dry” so we needed somebody to counter Ben’s personality.  Somebody mentioned that they knew of a great comedian who might be a good fit.  This comedian was brought in, he was great and right away everybody knew we had a hit show; the comedian was Jimmy Kimmel.  Jimmy has since gone onto hosting Jimmy Kimmel Live.

As we were preparing for preproduction, we were also finalizing the contractual documents.  I was contractually supposed to be the “Creator, Developed For Television By and one of the Executive Producers”, I was ecstatic, in only a couple of years, I’d gone from being an assistant to an Executive Producer!  Being the Creator and Executive Producer on a television show is a big deal; it can mean huge money.    

One Friday night I’d gone out to dinner and decided to go by the office afterwards to get a little work done.  It was about 11:00 pm, I was the only person there.  When I arrived, there was a fax coming in, it was from Buena Vista.  It was the contract for Win Ben Stein’s Money!  I grabbed the contract and started reading, then I saw it, I was horrified.  Al Burton and another man by the name of Byron Glore Al’s partner had instructed Disney to remove my name as Executive Producer and Creator.  I don’t think I’m capable of expressing the betrayal I felt at that moment. 

The next business morning, I confronted both Al Burton and Bryon Glore.  They told me that Buena Vista wouldn’t allow anymore Executive Producers nor would they allow my Created By credit.  I knew this was absolute bullshit and I called them on it.  I pointed out that I’d created the show and I should be the last person who should lose a credit.  Shortly after this confrontation, I was told that they were closing the company so I’d need to leave.  My head was spinning, my moral was crushed and I had no idea what to do.

Looking back, I could kick myself.  I was so young and naive, couldn’t imaging somebody would do something so bad to me.  A few days before I found out what Al and Byron were up to, I was sent an email from one of Al’s long time assistants.  This assistant warned me to look out for Al and protect myself.  I ignored his warning, I thought Al’s assistant was just pissed off at Al and jealous of me, trying to make trouble.  

I moved back to Albuquerque as quickly as I could. I couldn’t bear to be in Los Angeles another moment.  I’d realized that I’d been swimming with sharks and had just been chewed up and spit out.  Just after I got home, I consulted an attorney who by chance was the father of the actor and friend Neil Patrick Harris.  Neil’s father told me that I had a good case and should go after these people. 

By this time, I’d married my first wife, we were dirt poor and frightened to death about our future.  We knew we should sue the rats that had stolen my show from me but we had no idea how the hell we were going to afford an attorney.  Mr. Harris said he could help us but since he was based in Albuquerque, he highly recommended that we find an attorney in Los Angeles.  I was having no luck as all the attorneys I met with in Los Angeles wanted large retainers and charged incredible amounts of money per hour.  They didn’t want to take my case on contingency either as Win Ben Stein’s Money wasn’t going to air on a major network; it was going to air on a relatively new cable network called Comedy Central.  The money on Comedy Central wasn’t near what it would be on one of the major networks like NBC, CBS or ABC.  I was feeling completely defeated.

I was forced to negotiate with Byron Glore and Al Burton myself.  We wrangled over a settlement for a long time, into 1997 when the show first aired.  By this point I was completely worn down, I’d been stepped on and taken advantage of by two thugs.  Byron Glore had gone from blaming Buena Vista for my being stripped of my rightful credits and compensation to then claiming that I was “work for hire” for his company so my meager salary as an Associate Producer was actually compensation for the TV show.  Al Burton and Byron Glore’s partner Sam Riddle stepped up and acknowledged that I wasn’t work for hire and that I’d created the show but it was just too late; I had no more fight left in me, I walked away.

The day the show aired was crushing for me.  I knew I was to get a “Developed for Television By” credit so I had some friends over to see the show and watch my name on the credits.  When the credits rolled we were all glued to the screen.  The beginning credits were at a normal, viewable speed but when it came to mine, they flashed it across the screen so fast it was hard to read.  There was a long silence in the room, then one of my friends said “I’m so sorry Donnie”.  I sat there and just started crying.  I never imagined that anybody could be so evil and hurtful as Al Burton and Byron Glore.  I’d been baptized into the cutthroat world of business and I wanted nothing to do with it.

My show went on to win 5 Emmys.  At one of the Emmy awards shows, Al Burton and Byron Glore got up on stage to accept the award.  I watched in shock as these two men were taking credit for my idea and my show on national television.  A lot of people called me after this to ask me how this could have happened.  I wish they hadn’t, it just put me into a deeper depression.

The show lasted for many years, which didn’t help me to heal much as I constantly saw print and television advertisements for it.  I was relieved when the show was cancelled, I felt like I could move on.

Several times since the show was canceled, people who know me have run into Ben Stein and brought up my name.  Every time, Ben denies my involvement and reiterates that his old friend Al Burton created the show.  I doubt that Ben will ever acknowledge me because of his friendship with Al.

I just might have the last laugh though.  It’s now 2011, 14 years later and I’ve come up with an idea for a new show and it’s really creating a buzz in Hollywood.  I’ll soon go to meet with the networks to pitch the idea and possibly have a new show on a major network where I’m the Creator and Executive Producer!  And if that’s not enough, Sam Riddle, my mentor and only person who stood up for me through the whole Win Ben Stein’s Money fiasco will be my partner is this project.  Can you say Karma?



More on my father’s death can be found at: http://donniebrainard.blogspot.com/2010/05/el-global-grande-my-fathers-last-flight.html

My Grandfather & Great Grandfather at Their El Paso Hotel - 1950's


My Father - 1960's

Me and Sam Riddle at a Wrap Party - 1995 

Me with Shaq After a Lou Rawls Shoot

Al Burton With Cast Members




Here is a clip from Win Ben Stein's Money


Saturday, August 27, 2011

60 Minutes Story About What My Daughter Does Daily

My beautiful wife Vikki does what this 2004 CBS 60 Minutes Special talks about; Conductive Education.  Vikki has traveled all over the world helping children with Cerebral Palsy.

Monday, August 22, 2011

"2nd Opinion"

By 2011, India had been spiraling downhill at a very rapid pace. My little girl went from standing and walking assisted, dancing, sitting on her own and almost completely pain free to not being able to walk, stand, sit, dance and in constant pain to the point of not being able to attend school for a full day. Here is a video that shows India's gains and losses.

This has been a terrible experience for all of us, the helpless feeling as my daughter cries in pain is chilling.  Either Vikki or I were up in the middle of the night, every night trying to comfort India.

Until 2011, we had been putting our faith in a pediatric orthopedist from our home state.  This physician's bedside manner was rough but I believed this doctor was focusing on India’s needs, the "whole picture"; not just slice and dice.  This doctor said our only real option to reduce India’s hip pain was a very intense surgery called the McHale procedure.  To describe this procedure in the simplest way, they cut off the top of the femurs, leaving a void in the upper thigh that they fill with fat from other areas of the body.  This didn’t set well with us, something was very wrong.  In addition, this doctor put my little girl on a monthly Pamidronate infusion.  This wasn’t a pleasant experience and India was clearly not happy about it. The infusions made her sick and we saw no positive results. We were confused and scared.

As luck would have it, my wife came across a world renowned physician in New Jersey while reading published material related to cerebral palsy.  This doctors writings were absolutely amazing. I felt a new sense of hope with each word I read.  We immediately made the decision to book a flight to New Jersey and meet this man.

Our meeting was fantastic and to say I'm elated would be an understatement.  This doctor, Dr. Roy M. Nuzzo, was hands down the most knowledgeable, no bullshit physician I've ever met.  He took his time, hyper focused on us and was very concerned about the "overall picture" of India's life; she wasn't just another patient.

Dr. Nuzzo told us that the procedure that our doctor wanted us to do, McHale procedure, was not only inappropriate, but it would cause my daughter a lifetime of pain and infections. When I asked about other "replacement" surgeries, he didn't pause for one second with his response; NO.  Unlike other doctors who were willing to put my daughter through a year of traction/recovery, certain pain and no guaranteed outcome, he went the opposite direction. Dr. Nuzzo gave us an outpatient option that would take away India’s pain and allow her to get on with life and being a kid.

The first procedure he recommended was called an "Alcohol Block".  This is where the nerves causing the pain are treated with an alcohol solution that deadens them.  This lasts anywhere from 1 to 10 years or more.  Then he recommended a series of "Soft Tissue Lengthening" (My daughter had this once before).  I asked if India could do the things she loves after the surgery like standing and dancing.  Dr. Nuzzo told me that his instructions post surgery will be "let India get on with her life". Those were the sweetest words I'd heard in a long time.

Dr. Nuzzo also spent a long time explaining to me why the infusions my daughter was getting are not only useless but harmful.  He said that India’s previous physician should never have started these treatments, there was no reason and some of the outcomes that were promised were 100% false. There I sat feeling

I booked my child’s surgery on the spot.

I was incredibly thankful that we came across Dr. Nuzzo and especially after all we’d been through with India, I was once again reminded that doctors are "educated guessers" and I should never hesitate to do my research and get a 2nd opinion.

Dr. Nuzzo can be found via his website: http://www.pediatric-orthopedics.com


Sunday, May 2, 2010

"El Globo Grande"


My Father's Last Flight



The El Globo Grande on fire as it drifted towards the Rio Grande River.

On October 3rd,1982, the El Globo Grande caught fire, causing the gondola to explode. This picture was taken just moments after my father and pregnant step-mother were killed in this tragic accident. You can see in the photo that there is very little left of the “gondola” other than a portion of the superstructure. To date, this is the worst ballooning accident in New Mexico ballooning history.


My mother left my father in 1968 when I was only a few days old. The final straw was when he came home one night especially drunk. He was a full-blown alcoholic by this point but this night was different; he became physical. My father took me from my mother and forcefully threw her out of the house. She was 2 weeks out of the hospital from my birth and still had stitches in her stomach.  My father and I were locked inside alone and all my mother could do was watch us through the windows.  He stumbled about the house with me in his arms, eventually passing out.  My mother was able to get back into the house. She grabbed me, and a couple changes of clothing and left my father.  My parents were divorced shortly after and I’d only see my father a few times in the next 8 years.



My father in Albuquerque 1967


In 1976 when I was 8 years old, my dad wrote me a letter.  He wanted to re-connect with me. He was living in Colorado where he owned an insurance company.  Not long after receiving his letter, my dad let me know he was driving to Albuquerque to see me. I’ll never forget the day.  I stood out at the corner down the street from our house at the southwest corner of Los Alamos and Laguna so I could see him coming.  He was supposed to arrive at 2:00 pm.  I remember vividly looking into every car that passed by for my dad. At 8:00 pm,well after dark, my Grandmother Marion "Bama" Cornish walked down the street, put her arm around me, and held me tight as she walked me home; not a word was said.  I fell asleep that night crying with my pillow over my head so nobody could hear me.  I still can’t forget the feeling of being worthless, my own father had forgotten about me.  He never did showthat spring and I didn't see him for a very along time after that.










My dad’s life was intense. He was born to William Anton Rank and Mary Collaer. William, my Grandfather, was partners with and a very distant relative of Conrad Hilton of Hilton Hotels.  William was killed in a mugging in El Paso, Texas, when my father was a child.  As a result of my grandfathers’ murder, my father inherited millions of dollars when he was eighteen.  My father enjoyed his inherited money and lived the life of a jet setter.  He was drawn to Hollywood where he produced music and television.  My dad however,was just another young good looking rich kid who eventually was chewed up and spit out by Tinseltown.  He wasn’t cut out for swimming with the sharks.  He retreated to Colorado to rebuild his life.




One of the albums my father produced with partner "Sam Riddle"

Tract 1: http://snd.sc/OjWZIz

Tract 2: http://snd.sc/VsPnma

I eventually reconnected with my father and began going Colorado to spend time with my dad twice a year. This was absolutely an amazing time for me.  My life in New Mexico was chaotic and confusing; I was bouncing from home to home. But twice a year, I was with my “dad”, he was great and we had a ton of fun; he could do no wrong in my eyes.  I was never with him long enough to see his character defects, his human side.  I just saw the man who was always excited to see me, was new and exhilarating and lived a life that I desperately wanted to be a part of. 


I'm on the far right, then my half-brother Tom, dad's 3rd wife Martha and my father.


When I was thirteen, my grandparents let me know that my dad was moving back to New Mexico. They told me that he’d checked himself into a treatment center and when he got out, he’d permanently live in Albuquerque.  I was ecstatic.  I spent the next month fantasizing about how good my life was going to be with my dad home. My dad lived up to absolutely every expectation I had for him.  His first year home was an amazing year and to this day, it was the best 12 months of my life. 


My father and PJ at their wedding.

My father had remarried and his new wife, "PJ", was an extremely cool and beautiful woman.  We had so much fun together.  She had a great sense of humor,which made her a perfect stepmother for me.  My dad was working part time at a law firm and part time as a disk jockey at a local fm country station.   I used to love to go down to the station with my dad and just watch him work.  He had a wonderful deep voice and always said cool stuff.  One night, I went down to the station with my stepmother to hang out with dad.  My dad was pretty busy doing something so PJ and I started exploring the radio station.  We found another broadcast booth and started pretending to be disk jockeys.   We were singing into the microphone and saying the silliest things.  PJ really got into it and was acting like a complete clown.  Partway through her silly skit, I decided to play a joke on her.  I gave her an incredibly shocked look.  She stopped her routine and asked what was wrong.  I said, “the microphone is on, you’rebroadcasting over my dad!”  Well PJ absolutely freaked out.  She went tearing down the hallway to my father’s broadcast booth.  He was on the air, live as PJ slid into the room.  She was mouthing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over.  My dad, headsets on, cigarette in his hand, microphone to his lips, talking to 100,000 people over the airways gave PJ the funniest look I’d ever seen.  I was behind PJ in the hallway bent over laughing, snot coming out of my nose.  My dad shifted his confused look from PJ to me.  The look on his face went from confusion to a wonderful grin and obvious understanding of the situation. 

Dad signed off by saying “This is Nick Brainard at KRST; I’ll see you all tomorrow night.” He flipped the switch in the microphone, spun around in his seat and started to laugh.  PJ was still trying to explain that she’d drowned out his broadcast with the silly skit in the next room.  She was convinced that she'd been talking and singing to all the listeners out there in Albuquerque and she was mortified.  My dad of course knew this wasn't true and that I’d played one hell of a trick on PJ.  His laugh went from his chest to his belly; a deep cheerful laugh.  PJ was a great sport about my joke but I did have to watch my back for weeks after.  She never did get me back.

My father and PJ Christmas 1981


Although my father and PJ were not drinking anymore, they smoked lots of marijuana.  My great grandmother who we called “Granny” was the president of the African Violet Society.  She had a huge green room at my grandparent’s house that was filled with flowers.  Granny would help my dad grow his pot.  The two of them would start the plants in her greenhouse under the grow lights. Then, they’d transplant the marijuana into the back yard amongst the various garden bushes and trees.  I was fourteen, it was 1982 and I loved to swipe off my dad’s pot plants and get stoned.  I’m sure he knew but never said anything.

My father cleaning his "dope" with a little assistance from me.

By the fall of 1982, I was starting my freshman year in high school and my dad’s new wife was pregnant. It was a happy time.  For the first time in my life, I felt completely secure.  It was also time for the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta.  This event draws up to 500 + hot air balloons; it’s amazing.  Since PJ was new to Albuquerque and had never seen it, my dad decided we needed to take her the next morning.


My freshman high school ID - 1982

That evening, I got a call from a really cute girl I’d met at the beach in La Jolla earlier in the summer.  Her name was Erin, she had blonde hair, and I had a huge crush on her.  Erin was in Albuquerque for a couple of days and wanted to go to a movie with me the next day.  Of course, there was no way that I was going to the balloon fiesta now!  I was an Albuquerque native and had already seen it.  But a blond cute girl asking me out on a date, well that just doesn’t happen every day and my hormones weren’t going allow me to pass up this opportunity!


"Erin" in La Jolla, California 1982

As my dad and PJ got ready to go home for the night, I told them that I couldn't go to the fiesta the next day.  My dad told me that was fine and they'd decided to go up to the top of the mountains to watch it from there. The Sandia Mountains tower over Albuquerque.  There is a spot at the top where you can look down at the entire city.  I was surprised that my father wanted to take PJ up therefor her first Balloon Fiesta experience.  It was a long drive and would be nothing like being at the launch site.  I spent a long time trying to convince my dad to not go to the mountains. I told him that PJ would have a much better time walking through the balloons as they inflated and launched.  It is a breathtaking event to be a part of.  I persisted until my Dad finally relented and promised to take PJ to the fiesta instead of the mountains.

The next morning, I awoke early; I was excited to go on my date.  Granny and I where the only ones in the house.  Both my grandparents and parents had gone to the balloon fiesta.  Granny and I were talking about my date with the cute blond from the beach while we ate breakfast.  She wanted to know all about the girl and what we were going to do.  Of course as my words told her about going to a movie but my hormones were telling another story!  The television was on; live scenes of the balloon fiesta were coming in over the airwaves.   As we were talking, a “breaking news” broadcast came blaring out of the television.  The reporter announced that there had been a balloon crash and the following scenes were not suitable for children.

The screen jumped to a very large balloon whose’ gondola was filled with passengers.  As the balloon landed we could see somebody jump out as if something was wrong. Flames appeared and the balloon began to rise back into the air. Several more people jumped out, the quick drop in weight caused the balloon to ascend rapidly.  By this point, both the gondola and balloon were on fire.

As the balloon reached a substantial altitude, there were a series of explosions and a lot of fire rolling in every direction.  I sat there with Granny, our attention fixated on what we were watching.  Yet another large explosion followed by two people falling from the balloon.   These people were holding onto each other as they fell to their death.  Smoke following their bodies as they plummeted to the earth.  The impact was brutal and there was no doubt that they could not have survived that fall.

It was a terrible scene, we’d just watched 2 people fall to a gruesome death and there was no doubt that other passengers had died as well.  People were scurrying all over the place trying to help.  The camera would occasionally focus back in on the balloon, which was engulfed in flames and disappearing over the horizon.  Until my dying day, I’ll never forget Granny, without taking her eyes off the TV screen saying, “I sure do feel sorry for the families of those people.”

A short time later, a friend came over to hang out and get stoned with me.  We went out into the back yard, lit up a doobie, talked about the balloon wreck and started throwing the football.  Partway through our smoke, my friend glanced into the house.  From the back yard, you could see the street in front through a large window.  His jaw dropped wide open, he turned back to me and said that a police car was parked out in the street.  I froze; I knew that they were there because of my dad’s marijuana plants.  Before I could say a word, my friend ran and jumped over the back wall.  I ran through the house and got to the front door just as the policeman knocked.

When I opened the door, there was a policeman in a suit and two uniformed officers.  I thought I could see my father and PJ standing out in the street, their backs to me.  The police came in and to my surprise didn't say a thing about the pot plants.  They told Granny and me that there had been a terrible wreck involving Mr. and Mrs. Brainard.  The policeman didn't say that they were dead; he just said “terrible wreck.”  Granny, being the wise old soul she was, looked the officer in the eye and said “are they dead.”  There was a long pause while the policeman stared at me.  He then looked back to Granny and whispered “yes.”

Rescuers on scene of the El Globo Grande crash

Granny sat there with her hands over her face, crying.  The policeman gently rubbed her back and tried his best to comfort her.  I was still standing there stunned, my grandparents had been killed.  I’d never experienced anything like this before.  I had no way to process what had just happened.  I stood there frozen, trying to make sense of it all.  How did it happen, where was the car wreck, why did it happen?


Granny sitting on my fathers lap in 1967

After a few moments, I looked outside towards where I thought my dad and PJ were. I needed my dad right now, I needed to hold him. I ran past the police officer and out the front door towards them.  Just as I ran out the front door, another car pulled up into the driveway.  As I ran, I looked over to see my grandparents pulling up. They were alive.  I stopped cold in my tracks.  I could see the wide-eyed look on their faces as they took in the scene taking place in the front yard of their house.




I was shocked, I’d just been told that they were in a wreck and were dead.  I was trying to comprehend what was happening, did the police have the wrong family? 

I turned my head back towards my dad and PJ.  They were no longer looking away from the house, they were looking towards me and they were not my dad and PJ, they were two more police officers dressed in civilian clothes.

In an instant, my world came crashing down around me.  Everything went into slow motion.  I couldn't stand, my legs didn't work.  I fell to the ground. I watched the young police officer run across the yard to intercept my grandparents.  I could see my grandmother’s face grimaced with agony as she was told that her oldest son was dead, the officer had to help her sit down; she too couldn't stand.  Then my grandfather, the toughest man I’d known in my life, started sobbing like a child.  It was an absolutely horrible scene.

I clearly understood now that there was no car wreck, this had nothing to do with a car.  My dad and PJ were the two people we’d watched being blown out of the balloon, falling to their death.  I’d just watched my parents die a drawn-out and violent demise.  I’d watched the whole thing not knowing it was two people who I dearly loved. Granny had said that she felt sorry for the family of those people and it turned out that we were those people. I don't know if this was Nick, PJ or another victim. 

I went into a deep shock that lasted for a long time.  To make matters worse, I got a little lost in the confusion.  My father was so popular and loved, not only in the family but in the community.  People were flooding the house and everybody was beside themselves with grief.  I can remember sitting in the corner, no able to move, not able to cry, not able to do anything but sit there, stunned.

At one point, a family member noticed me sitting by myself in the corner.  She walked up to me, rubbed my head and said that she had just the thing to make me feel better:she handed me a joint.  This was such a common solution to problems with my family, inebriation.

The person who really touched my heart and allowed me to grieve in the days following their deaths was my uncle Dar.  I was sitting in my father’s van. It had just been towed back from the Balloon Fiesta parking lot. I’d been sitting there for a couple hours.  It smelled like my dad and PJ so there was nowhere else on the face of this earth that I wanted to be.  Dar came out to check on me.  He opened the door and asked me if there was anything I wanted. I said “I just want them back.”  Dar grabbed onto me and we both started crying.  It was really the first time I’d broken down since their death.  I’ll always be grateful to my uncle Dar for that moment. I believe in my heart it’s what I needed to survive.

The next few weeks were a nightmare.  All the television stations kept replaying the scene; we didn't dare turn on the TV. People were coming and going and there seemed no time to decompress and grieve.Then I watched as people started to come and take my father’s things, right in front of me. I don't think the thought even crossed their minds that my father’s and PJ’s belongings should go to their children.  It was awful.  Their personal belongings were being carted off as if we were having a free yard sale.  People who had little to do with my father helped themselves to his belongings.  As I write this today, I still have a tough time keeping my resentment in check for these individuals.  I wish I still had every item of my fathers.  The few that remained, my brother and I have cherished as if they were the Hope Diamond; they're irreplaceable to us.  I've often wondered if anything was given to PJ’s daughter. I've been reconnected to her for a few years now but never had the courage to ask.

During the period that the looting of my father’s belongings took place and the constant stream of people flowing through the house, I found the perfect coping mechanism:Alcohol.  My grandparents’ house always had booze here and there but now it was overflowing.  People were bringing liquor by the gallons and nobody was paying close attention to me.  I found that a cup full of booze, the headsets over my ears to drown out the sounds, and Dan Fogelberg playing on the 8 track put me in a frame of mind that I could handle.  This was the beginning of a long and brutal battle with alcohol and drug addiction for me but I’ll save that story for another time.

It came time for my father’s funeral and this too was a terrible experience. There were so many people and I only knew a few of them.  I can remember during the service, I was up near the casket, I looked into the audience and there were two girls I went to school with; Kerry and Tanya.  I was grateful to see their faces, two friendly faces that I knew and liked very much.

When they put my father’s body in the ground, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I’d just been with him at the radio station having fun. He’d just let me drive on the road without my license!  We'd just sat in his cool green van and listened to music with PJ.  This couldn't be happening. I couldn't go back to my old life!  He couldn't leave! And that’s when it hit me; I’d talked my father into going to the balloon fiesta instead of the mountains. The realization that I’d killed them spread throughout my body.  All these people watching his body being lowered into the ground, mourning this tragic loss and it was because of me.  I couldn't look anybody in the eye. I just stood there staring at my father’s casket.  I desperately wanted to touch his coffin and say goodbye but I couldn't bring myself to move.  To this day I still regret not walking over and touching his coffin.

The level of guilt that I carried for the next twenty years was absolutely brutal. No fourteen- year-old should ever have to shoulder this kind of responsibility.  It warped my life in the most incomprehensible ways. I feel incredibly fortunate to have survived.

My addiction took me to exceptionally dark places.  I lived a viciously destructive life which put me in many deadly situations that normal healthy people wouldn't dream of getting near.  After all these years of reflection, I know that I was in a constant state of deep depression.  

Postscript

I was compelled to relive this experience when my brother tracked down the autopsy report for my father. I still don't understand why he did it. He gave a copy to me twenty-seven years after his death.  I was rattled by the brutality inflicted on my dad’s young body.  I’d always thought that although his death was clearly violent, his body was intact and relatively unscathed.  I believe that this was a coping mechanism of a young boy.  All these years later, I now know better and it hurts as much as it did in 1982, if not a bit more.

2012 - Albuquerque Journal Article


2013 - Surprise.

Various Photos                                    Nick and PJ's wedding