Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Golden Plunger Awards by Bathroom Readers’ Institute Page A
Authors: Bathroom Readers’ Institute
Ads: Link
fire prevention and spotting, have helped, but when it comes to fighting fires in the wilderness, there’s nothing as effective as a pair of human eyes.
WANTED: FIRE LOOKOUT
A real ad: “This is a full-time seasonal paid position, which begins as soon as the snow melts . . . and ends when the snows fly in the fall (typically 5 days per week, May–October). Built in 1934, Fence Meadow is a 30’ metal tower with a 14x14’ wooden live-in cab, powered by electricity and comes furnished with a single bed, stove, refrigerator, lights, heater and a fine-by-any-standards double-head outhouse. The lookout is located off of paved roads . . . The lookout is in the process of being refurbished (already newly painted on the inside and carpeted). Carpentry skills and smoke monitoring experience a plus!”
THE UNSOLVED MYSTERY AWARD
D. B. Cooper
This man on the run has been puzzling investigators for nearly 40 years.
The subject of countless books, movies, TV shows, and endless
speculation, he is also now the recipient of our
best unsolved mystery award.
INTO THIN AIR
In today’s post-9/11 society, the possibility of an airliner being hijacked by a lone criminal who escapes without ever being caught or positively identified is both deeply disturbing and highly unlikely. But on November 24, 1971, before the days of airport metal detectors and other stringent security regulations, one polite, well-dressed man did exactly that.
What’s more, his apolitical and “stick-it-to-the-man” motivations, relaxed threats, and willing release of innocents earned him a community of supporters who deemed him a modern-day Robin Hood. And, at the time, antiestablishment types were in vogue. Thirty-five years later, with no new leads, the FBI is still trying to uncover the true identity of “Dan Cooper,” the man behind the only unsolved commercial skyjacking in U.S. history, a man who seemingly vanished into thin air.
FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS
On a rainy afternoon at Oregon’s Portland International Airport, a middle-aged man wearing a dark suit with a slim tie and mother-of-pearl tie clip purchased a one-way ticket on Northwest Orient Airlines to Seattle, Washington. He paid $18.52. The name on the reservation was Dan Cooper. After taking his seat in the last row of the Boeing 727 aircraft, he ordered a bourbon and Coke from an attractive flight attendant, 23-year-old
Florence Schaffner. Then he lit a Raleigh filter-tip cigarette and settled in for the ride.
According to the flight staff, Cooper was cordial, tipped generously, and had a smooth demeanor. In fact, when he handed Florence a piece of paper to let her know that he was toting a bomb in his briefcase, she slipped it into her pocket unopened, assuming he’d simply passed along his phone number, as many male passengers before him had done. But Cooper urged her to open the note. The note threatened to blow up the plane if Cooper’s demands weren’t met:
$200,000 in unmarked $20 bills, four manually operated parachutes (two chest and two back), and a fuel truck waiting in Seattle to refuel the plane.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
Northwest Orient president Donald Nyrop instructed the pilot to cooperate, and the FBI scrambled to meet Cooper’s demands, while at the same time preparing to apprehend him. When the plane finally landed in Seattle, Cooper released all 36 passengers and two flight attendants, leaving only himself and four airline employees onboard as the plane was refueled. Bags filled with the cash, weighing a total of 21 pounds, were delivered as promised.
As the plane left the runway, this time in a heavy storm, Cooper gave the pilot specific instructions: Keep the plane under 10,000 feet, wing flaps at 15 degrees, and speed under 200 knots. He then ordered everyone into the cockpit, strapped the money to his waist, put one chute on his chest and one on his back, opened the plane’s rear door, and plunged into the darkness somewhere over the dense pine forests and deep
WANTED: FIRE LOOKOUT
A real ad: “This is a full-time seasonal paid position, which begins as soon as the snow melts . . . and ends when the snows fly in the fall (typically 5 days per week, May–October). Built in 1934, Fence Meadow is a 30’ metal tower with a 14x14’ wooden live-in cab, powered by electricity and comes furnished with a single bed, stove, refrigerator, lights, heater and a fine-by-any-standards double-head outhouse. The lookout is located off of paved roads . . . The lookout is in the process of being refurbished (already newly painted on the inside and carpeted). Carpentry skills and smoke monitoring experience a plus!”
THE UNSOLVED MYSTERY AWARD
D. B. Cooper
This man on the run has been puzzling investigators for nearly 40 years.
The subject of countless books, movies, TV shows, and endless
speculation, he is also now the recipient of our
best unsolved mystery award.
INTO THIN AIR
In today’s post-9/11 society, the possibility of an airliner being hijacked by a lone criminal who escapes without ever being caught or positively identified is both deeply disturbing and highly unlikely. But on November 24, 1971, before the days of airport metal detectors and other stringent security regulations, one polite, well-dressed man did exactly that.
What’s more, his apolitical and “stick-it-to-the-man” motivations, relaxed threats, and willing release of innocents earned him a community of supporters who deemed him a modern-day Robin Hood. And, at the time, antiestablishment types were in vogue. Thirty-five years later, with no new leads, the FBI is still trying to uncover the true identity of “Dan Cooper,” the man behind the only unsolved commercial skyjacking in U.S. history, a man who seemingly vanished into thin air.
FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS
On a rainy afternoon at Oregon’s Portland International Airport, a middle-aged man wearing a dark suit with a slim tie and mother-of-pearl tie clip purchased a one-way ticket on Northwest Orient Airlines to Seattle, Washington. He paid $18.52. The name on the reservation was Dan Cooper. After taking his seat in the last row of the Boeing 727 aircraft, he ordered a bourbon and Coke from an attractive flight attendant, 23-year-old
Florence Schaffner. Then he lit a Raleigh filter-tip cigarette and settled in for the ride.
According to the flight staff, Cooper was cordial, tipped generously, and had a smooth demeanor. In fact, when he handed Florence a piece of paper to let her know that he was toting a bomb in his briefcase, she slipped it into her pocket unopened, assuming he’d simply passed along his phone number, as many male passengers before him had done. But Cooper urged her to open the note. The note threatened to blow up the plane if Cooper’s demands weren’t met:
$200,000 in unmarked $20 bills, four manually operated parachutes (two chest and two back), and a fuel truck waiting in Seattle to refuel the plane.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
Northwest Orient president Donald Nyrop instructed the pilot to cooperate, and the FBI scrambled to meet Cooper’s demands, while at the same time preparing to apprehend him. When the plane finally landed in Seattle, Cooper released all 36 passengers and two flight attendants, leaving only himself and four airline employees onboard as the plane was refueled. Bags filled with the cash, weighing a total of 21 pounds, were delivered as promised.
As the plane left the runway, this time in a heavy storm, Cooper gave the pilot specific instructions: Keep the plane under 10,000 feet, wing flaps at 15 degrees, and speed under 200 knots. He then ordered everyone into the cockpit, strapped the money to his waist, put one chute on his chest and one on his back, opened the plane’s rear door, and plunged into the darkness somewhere over the dense pine forests and deep
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