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In 1963, I was attending Intermediate Russian at Syracuse in a class with Dick Oliver, Bob Stinson, Don Fisher, Dave DeWey, Riley McFetridge, Dave Gladen and Ed Bowling . During one of our bull sessions, either between classes or at lunchtime, the subject of moonshine came up.
Several of my classmates were of the opinion that moonshine was a thing of the past. They thought it was only produced during prohibition and that the practice was long since abandoned.
I begged to differ, as did my roommate, Walter Key of eastern Tennessee.
So, during our mid-term break in the winter of 1963/1964, Walter and I decided to obtain some fresh moonshine and bring it back to Syracuse as proof of our argument.
Walter had a spiffy 1957 Chevy. He offered to drive and to drop me off in Beckley, W.VA. on his way to Tennessee and then pick me up again on his way back to Syracuse.
Walter picked up a few jars of some potent stuff from the stills of eastern Tennessee and stuffed it into his suitcase which he placed in the trunk of his Chevy. I added a couple of jars from the stills of southern W.VA. My wife-to-be was with us during the leg of the trip from Beckley, W.VA. to Phillipi, W.VA. where she was attending school at Alderson Broaddus College. I drove that leg while Walt caught a good nap in the back seat.
After dropping Shelia off in Phillipi, Walt took the wheel and I curled up on the back seat for a much needed nap.
The next thing I remember is waking up in pain. It was dark and freezing cold and I was in the floor in the back of the car, pinned between the front and back seats. My head was on the driver's side and I could see Walt, dangling out of the open door on the driver's side. He had an ugly gash in his skull and was bleeding profusely.
After what seemed like an eternity, I heard voices approaching the car. I was hoping that it was an ambulance with a doctor aboard. It was only a hearse with a driver and assistant from a mortuary in Oakland, Maryland, some distance away. They managed to extract us from the car and take us to Garrett County Memorial Hospital in Oakland Maryland. Walt was very close to death. I had some cracked ribs, a separated shoulder and a collapsed lung.
We learned later that a drunk driver had crossed into our lane on U.S. Route 50 and hit us head on. A truck driver following us saw the accident. Walt's 1957 Chevy was a total wreck - not a single piece of glass was still intact.
After a day or so in the hospital, a nurse came to my bed and told me that the Garrett County Sheriff wanted to see me. He was waiting at the nurses' station. That's when I remembered the moonshine!
Figuring that I was in a heap of trouble, I got out of bed and walked up to the nurses' station. There was the Sheriff with Walt's suitcase in one hand and my suitcase in the other. He said,
"Are these your suitcases, son?"
"Yes, they are," I replied.
"Well here, take em'!"
Unbelievable!! The jars of moonshine had not broken and he had not opened the suitcases!
He added that the suitcases were taken out of the trunk of Walt's car by a W.VA. Sheriff and then given to the W.VA. State Police who brought them to the Maryland State Police who then turned them over to the Garrett County Sheriff
After a few days, I was ready to make it back to Syracuse on my own, but the commander there refused to let me do that. It seems he had turned our "case" over to the hospital at Andrews AFB, Maryland and I would have to wait until they brought in a medivac to take us to Andrews.
While we waited for this to happen, Walt and I became very good friends with the entire staff, including our doctor and his family. The good doctor even gave me the use of his wife's car so I could commute back and forth to Phillipi, W.VA. and visit my wife-to-be. They entertained all of us at their home for dinner and were among the most hospitable (no pun intended) people I've ever known.
After about 45 days, the Air Force flew a medivac aircraft into the airport at Morgantown, W.VA. Walt and I were transported from Oakland, Maryland to Morgantown in the same hearse that had transported us from the wrecked car to the hospital.
I was basically back to 100 percent and was chomping at the bit to get back to school. I was wearing my dress blues and carrying my suitcase when the USAF 1st Lieutenant nurse met me at the Morgantown airport. She said,
"Are you Airman Gwinn?"
"Yes."
"My orders say that you are not ambulatory."
I don't remember my response to that, but it didn't make any difference. She forced me to undress, put on one of those silly green hospital gowns, lie down on a stretcher and suck on a thermometer. That's how I flew from Morgantown to Andrews.
The next morning in the hospital at Andrews, a lead doctor accompanied by a half dozen interns surrounded my bed.
"What's wrong with you," the doctor asked?
"Nothing," I replied.
"Well, why don't we just discharge you so you can go back to school?"
"I'd like nothing better."
So, I get out of bed and check out of the hospital. I have very little money and no idea how I'm going to get back to Syracuse. Somebody gave me a ride to base ops. While standing in line waiting to ask about catching a hop, a Major walks up to me and asks me where I'm going. It turned out that he was getting ready to fly a T-39 to Griffiss and had no passengers. What luck!
The Major was super nice fellow. He not only flew me to Griffiss, but then delivered me to the train station where I caught a train to Syracuse.
After nearly two months and an odyssey that included Walt's Chevy, a W.VA. Sheriff, the W.VA. State Police, The Maryland State Police, the Garrett County Sheriff, a U.S. Air Force Medivac aircraft, a U.S. Air Force T-39, a N.Y. Central Train and a Syracuse, N.Y. taxi, the moonshine was delivered to my classmates at SkyTop!