My Italian Beauty on State Street

It was mid-1985. I was a contract design engineer at a little aircraft cabin interiors company called KME in Renton, WA. They specialized in retrofit and reconfiguration projects for airlines. Our Director of Engineering had just started sending me out to support site installations for various projects. The biggest one was a reconfiguration of McDonald Douglas DC-10s for United Airlines at Tracor Aviation in Santa Barbara, CA. While the project was something of a mess, Santa Barbara was a great place to be. It was made all the better by the wonderful women. I will always remember how I met one girl in particular.

I was staying at the Sandman Hotel on State St. It was a Saturday and I was sitting in the lobby reading the paper. In comes this beautiful, dark haired Italian girl with her blond girlfriend. She asks for a room. Well, there were none to be had. It turned out the Sandman was home base for the Secret Service when Ronald Reagan would spend time at his Santa Barbara ranch. When he was there they would take half the rooms in the place. The President was apparently on his way for such a visit, and the Secret Service had reserved their usual block in preparation.

This woman was beside herself. She loudly exclaimed there were no rooms in the whole of Santa Barbara and she and her friend NEEDED a room! I discreetly attempted to catch a glimpse of this Italian beauty and her cohort by flipping down the corner of my bulldog edition of the Sunday paper, when we made eye contact.

“You!” She says, pointing at me. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes, I am,” I said smiling, setting down my paper and knowing what was probably coming next.

“We need a place to stay. Would you share your room with us?”

My first thought was, Is this for real?! Followed quickly by, Oh, my God, you’re gorgeous! Is that a stupid question or what! Then I started thinking about what kind of freak she could be. But curiosity got the better of me, and I said, “Sure. But I only have one bed, and I’m not giving it up for both of you. One of you will have to sleep on the couch.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t even hesitate. “Okay!” she exclaimed.

“I’m Lucia, and this is my friend, Audrey,” my beauty said, holding out her hand.

“I’m Tim. It’s nice to meet you both.”

I told her my room number and agreed to meet them later that evening after their day at the Renaissance Fair. They left all giggly and me wondering if this was as good as fairy tales make these things out to be. I went about my day, had a simple dinner and made it back to my room in time to relax a bit and dwell a bit more on the wisdom of what I had done. I snapped to at the knock on the door.

Sure enough, there they were with their costumes and luggage, dying to take a shower and get some rest. I had work in the morning and let them know I would be rising early. They said that was no problem as they had to get back to LA anyway. We divvied up the sleeping arrangements and just as I was hoping Lucia chose the bed with me. Audrey seemed completely fine with getting the couch and not having to share space with anyone.

Now I didn’t know exactly what the expectations were going to be, but I knew I needed to behave like a gentleman. The lights went out and I found myself eyeballing a girl who was staring right back. That was disconcerting. Could she be hoping this was going to work into something more like I was? Suddenly I was wondering again if this had been such a good idea. I was back thinking about them taking my wallet and stuff while I slept. I comforted myself with the talks we had about where they were from, why they were in Santa Barbara and that their story seemed to check out. So, I rationalized they were either very good liars or I was okay. I rolled over, closed my eyes, left it alone and hoped for the best.

Morning came. To my relief they were still there. My wallet was still in my coat pocket and I was still in one piece. I’m guessing they were a bit relieved, too. Every one did as they were expected and we parted ways. My hope for something more came when she invited me to LA to be my guide the next weekend. I hadn’t even had time to get all worked up about asking her out! I excitedly accepted and knew it was real when Lucia gave me her address and phone. She turned out to be a really nice girl I had a lot of fun. And she sure was great to look at. I had no problem driving to Reseda to see her. We dated for several months while I was down there. But then I came home and unfortunately, long distance ended it. How we met has always remained a very fond memory of a wonderful few months….

My last bit of site liaison for KME was at Air Canada in Vancouver, BC. KME was providing them with parts for a small-scale reconfiguration project and I was relieving Craig Roberts. I was there all of about three days when I got a call from a fellow engineer in the middle of a meeting with Air Canada engineering. She said, “KME just filed for bankruptcy. If you want your stuff you better get out of there and head home.”

I hung up the phone, turned to the AC boys and said, “Well, gentlemen, KME just filed for bankruptcy, so I’m outta here.”

First, there were shocked expressions, then, “You’re not going to stay and help us?”

“With what? You’re not getting anything more out of them and I’m not staying here for free.” With that, I grabbed my stuff and walked out the door. They were left grasping for words as I went.

The bankruptcy didn’t come as a huge surprise as we had all seen the handwriting on the wall for some time, including our fearless engineering leader, Ray Twynam. Ray was a British ex-pat who originally came over to work for Boeing and liked the U.S. so well he stayed. He was an immense character with charisma and tremendous charm but best of all, the way he dealt with people was completely genuine. He had pushed me out into the hard world of supervising airplane installations in remote sites. They were baptisms by fire and taught me to think fast on my feet, always be straight up and not speak without bringing solutions to problems.

In true Brit fashion, he worked hard and he played hard. In those days, drinking and smoking were still prerequisite to being British. It was no different for Ray. During lunch and after work he could be found at the local pub watching World Cup Soccer while pounding back a scotch or his current favorite brew. Sometimes if he wasn’t around and I needed some help or advice on an engineering issue, I would head straight to the pub and there he would be, like it was his second office. I’d ask my questions, sit and watch a little soccer with him, then head back to get on with the problem. Ray knew probably better than the rest of us that the end was near for KME. Looking back, I think he also knew something more.

A few days before KME went into bankruptcy in late 1986, I got a job in Wichita with a couple of my job shopper buddies working on the interior of the President’s new 747 Air Force One. I ended up in Wichita with Craig Roberts, Ted Ross, Rick Werth, and several other shoppers I knew from Seattle. As for KME, I snuck in one night and got the rest of my personal tools out of there and then headed off to Wichita so I could begin collecting on my raise from $19/hr to $30/hr, plus overtime! It was the only time I ever made more money as a job shopper than Ted. I had been able to squeeze a couple more bucks an hour out of Nordam because I was at Wichita for them as an industry assist, and because they were desperate for bodies. The top rate was supposed to be $28 and that’s what Ted and the other guys got as regular engineers.

Before I could leave though, I had one thing left I needed to do – go visit Ray, who was in the hospital dying of a brain tumor at the age of 49. He was an excellent engineer and a fine man, with a real enthusiasm for life. When I saw him he looked as if someone had finally gotten the best of him. But he never complained and he was never bitter. Did he wonder why? Sure, we all did. But it was a question without an answer, as so many questions are in life. He simply fought the good fight and took it as it came. We didn’t talk long, and the only thing I really remember was the last thing he said to me: “You’re a smart lad. You’ll be all right. Go out there an’ knock ‘em dead.”

I told him I would. Another fine man gone. I sent a card to his wife and son with a donation to Ray’s memorial fund. And then I left, all the while thinking about what this man had taught me.