Believe It Or Not

Finding the Finders (and other true stories)
—by Mario Martinez —

During the course of my research some unusual occurrences took place. Were they fate or just a spooky coincidence? Judge for yourselves.

When I started my research I was bent on finding the three men who found the Lady Be Good—Gordon Bowerman, John Martin and Don Sheridan. In early 1984 I was fundraising for Irish UNICEF in Dublin and I decided to begin my research once the job was completed.

One Saturday I was visiting a friend, Father Jack Brennan, SJ, the president of University Hall on Hatch Street, Dublin. The "Hall" is a Jesuit residence for male students from all parts of Ireland who are in Dublin taking higher education courses and need a place to live.

Down the street from the Hall—no more than two minutes away—are the offices of a company called Atlantic Recourses plc. Keep this in mind.

That Saturday, I asked Jack if I might use his phone to call Dennis McClendon in Tampa, Florida. Jack said yes, so I did.

Dennis had written the one and only book on the Lady Be Good and I wanted to convey my intention to go deeper into the story, conduct my own research and to ask if Dennis was willing to see me the next time I was in America.

I was hopeful that he might help me with several matters. Dennis was cordial and agreed. The following year, I found Gordon Bowerman, who led me to John Martin who in turn led me to Don Sheridan.

Where was the latter? He was down the street from University Hall; he was the manager of Atlantic Resources plc.

On the morning of the day I found Gordon Bowerman I had no idea how to begin my search. As a highly skilled surveyor, Gordon could have been anywhere in the world. So I looked in the London phone book and there he was: F. Gordon Bowerman, Gerald Eve & Co. in Savile Row.

Gordon was doubly surprised to hear from me—he had no idea his company had listed him in the London phone book. When I asked where I might find John Martin he suggested I contact the offices of British Petroleum in London; maybe they could help.

Although Gordon had neither spoken to nor seen his desert colleagues since the Lady Be Good's discovery, he thought John might still be with BP.

The following day I called BP and asked if I might speak with John Martin. They put me through to his office and a man answered.

"He's not at his desk," said the gentleman who answered the phone. I gave my number and name—Mr. Martinez—and said that I was calling about the Lady Be Good.

I had called on John's retirement day. He was at his party when I rang. My message was the last one on his desk to which John responded before leaving BP.

A few jokes were being played on John that day, and he was highly suspicious about a message from someone with a name somewhat similar to his that was calling about—of all things—Lady Be Good.

After meeting with John and discovering the Hatch Street whereabouts of Don Sheridan, I had come full circle in my hunt for the three men who found Lady Be Good.



Finding Charles Hellewell

The winding road leading to Charles Hellewell was indeed a strange one.

By the middle of the 1960s many of the oilmen involved in the ship's discovery were scattered throughout the world in various countries, often employed by other companies.

Some had lost contact with each other, and this was the case with Ronald MacLean, who had spotted the bomber from the air, and Charles Hellewell, the pilot of the Dakota from which the sighting came.

From the outset I always wanted to know who the pilot of the ship was and where I could reach him, because I had questions that needed answering.

In 1985, by following various leads, I finally made contact with Ronald MacLean and we agreed to meet in London on the 14th of November at the Royal Overseas Club.

MacLean, whose home is in Scotland, was by then retired from BP.

After filling me in on the circumstances surrounding his sighting and those on board the Dakota, I asked MacLean who the pilot of the ship was, and how I could reach him.

"It was Charles Hellewell", said MacLean. "I hadn't seen Charles in years. We met by chance at Heathrow in the strangest way a few years back."

He told me the story.

MacLean, who was still with BP at the time, arrived at Heathrow from a business trip on an early morning flight.

As he was making his way through the terminal building he heard an announcement that stopped him in his tracks. "Will Captain Hellewell of British Caledonian Airways please go to such and such a desk?"

Could it be Hellewell? MacLean wondered. He quickly asked where the desk was and smartly headed that way.

Sure enough, there was Hellewell, still looking chipper after nearly twenty years. Their meeting was brief, as Hellewell had a flight to catch and time was moving on. They barely had time to skim the surface of each other's lives; then they shook hands and parted.

One of the last things Hellewell said to MacLean was that he was soon to retire. That was all I needed to know. With the help pf British Caledonian, within 10 days I had reached Hellewell at his home in the south of England.

Both he and MacLean proved to be princes and goldmines of information about the sighting and other aspects of the Lady Be Good's discovery.

All this as a result of a chance meeting at Heathrow Airport and my question to MacLean about a pilot!
The Hatton Connection

In 1985 I attended the 376th Bomb Group's Veterans Association reunion in San Antonio, Texas .

My hope was to learn all I could about the ship and crew from those who would know.

Several hundred veterans attended. I had access to many of the veterans, almost all of whom related useful information: Dick Byers, Dr. Joe Taddonio, Dr. Dean Christie, Harry Heins, Peter Aspesi, Richard Hurd, Edwin Gluck, Richard Dahlstedt and Holly Midgley were among those whose responses, either in person at the reunion or through the mail, were rewarding.

Dick Byers, with whom I had communicated before the reunion, was a great source of data. He had sent me his book Attack, which, in diary form, paralleled the Lady Be Good incident and other relevant details and events.

One day, in the lobby of the reunion's venue, the El Tropicana Hotel, I was speaking with a veteran who had met William Hatton, the pilot of the Lady Be Good.

In the course of our discussion he mentioned that the Hatton family were in the mortuary business in the Flushing area of Queens, New York.

This rang a bell. I recalled having seen a funeral parlor somewhere in Flushing with a big sign that read Francis X. Hatton.

When I returned to New York I investigated, and sure enough, there it was in Bayside, not far from Flushing.

I rang and was told that Francis X. Hatton was William's eldest brother; that he was retired; and that he lived upstate in Ulan, New York.

The person I spoke with was Francis Hatton's son, who gave me his father's telephone number. When I called Francis he agreed to let me come and see him.

Well along in years and in poor health, Francis, who has since died, was then caring for a handicapped daughter.

After he answered my questions I asked if he had photos of William or letters from his Air Force days. He said no but that his sister, Elizabeth Betty Henry, might have some, and that she was in a nursing home in Flushing.

When he gave me the address—The Flushing Manor Nursing Home—another bell rang for me. And when I found it, the bell rang even louder—the nursing home was a stone's throw from where my mother lives. In fact, it was almost around the corner on a side street.

Over many years, whenever I was in New York, I stayed in Flushing. Throughout this period I had, most days, jogged at the Flushing High School Stadium, which is situated on 149th Street and Bayside Avenue. Bayside Avenue is the dividing line between Flushing and Whitestone Queens.

One of the veterans I made contact with by mail before the San Antonio reunion was Richard F. Hurd from Plainfield, Vermont.

Hurd, like William Hatton, had been a pilot. He had known Hatton well and since his surname and Hatton's began with the same letter, both their names had appeared on the same military orders during their training days in the U.S.

After visiting Francis Hatton, I received mail from Hurd containing some of his old military orders. On the back of one was William Hatton's old address in New York: 17- 43, 149th street, Whitestone, Queens.

Without knowing it, for years I had been jogging at a stadium no more than 500 yards from where William Hatton grew up. His family's Queens connection was unknown to me prior to the reunion because all the records I had seen up to then had the Hatton's address as being in Jersey City, New Jersey, which is where William was born.

McClendon's Tale


In 1986 I received a call from Dennis McClendon, the author of the first Lady Be Good book, in Tampa. This took place after I attended the reunion in San Antonio.

Dennis' tale was a strange one. Recently a farmer from Kansas whom Dennis had never met called out of the blue and kept him on the phone for two hours. After praising Dennis to the heavens about his Lady Be Good book, the farmer said that he was in touch with God and that God had a message for a man in London.

According to God, a man in London was investigating what happened to Vernon Moore, and that the man in London had better watch out. The reason given was that Vernon Moore was alive and out to kill him.

After discussing the matter at length with Dennis, we came to certain conclusions which at this point are probably best not to go into. I can say however, that since Dennis' call no attempt on my life has been made other than through the natural rhythm of God's ageing process. As a matter of interest, the farmer called Dennis on other occasions with the same message.


The Martinez Connection


Prior to the San Antonio reunionI wrote to forty of the bomb group's veterans. Among the dozen or so that responded was Edwin Gluck. He was one of the Liberator pilots said to be behind the Lady Be Good at 7.45 p.m. during Mission 109.

Gluck, who may be dead now, lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and he responded quickly.

His letter said that he had documents that might help in my research. I rang him and we had a long talk. He said he had copies of the sortie reports of every pilot that flew Mission 109 and that he would send them on. This conversation took place in the early evening, London time, and at around noon in Pittsburgh.

The following morning I received a call from Mr. Gluck's nephew, Mr. Levy. He was sitting with his uncle in Pittsburgh when I rang the evening before, poised to return to London where he ran a business, and his uncle Edwin had asked him to bring the sortie reports with him. Levy's call was to let me know and to ask whether he should mail them, or would I like to pick them up.

"I'll pick them up", I said. His address hugged Piccadilly Circus on Swallow Street, a short arching street that connects Piccadilly with Regent Street.

Almost opposite Levy's building was an old, established Spanish restaurant whose beginnings in London went back to the 1920s. Its name was Martinez.

The Moore Name


One of Peter Cowley's grandparents had the surname of Moore, a popular name on The Isle Of Man. While discussing the frequency of the surname on the island Peter remembered that some time back, he had purchased an old, second-hand book on surnames and place-names on the Island.

He had never studied it carefully so he said he would find it and have a new look at it with the name of Moore in mind. Shortly thereafter he rang me to say that the book was published in London in 1890 and that the author's name was A. N. Moore, M.A.

Even though this is something unconnected with my name, Mario Martinez, it is sufficiently mysterious to be worthy of mention here.

When, on the 11th of May 1960, two D'Arcy oilmen working in the Calanscio Sand Sea accidentally discovered the scattered bones of Sgt. Guy Shelley strewn down the side of a dune, a Benrus watch belonging to Shelley was eventually recovered along with other items. When the watch was wound it worked perfectly, and when tested in America under laboratory conditions it was found to have lost only 11 seconds despite its 17-year exposure to the heat and cold of the Libyan Desert.

Guy Shelley's remains were found at map co-ordinates 28°,10' N, 23 degrees, 05' E. The amazing Guy Shelley had walked at least 115.5 miles from the bail-out point on perhaps six capfuls of water and virtually no food beyond energy sweets.

Sadly, and with regret, I must report that Dennis E. McClendon and Charles P. Hellewell died early in 2002, in America and England respectively. Both were fine, honourable people and gentlemen of the highest order. And both, in their own ways, were a source of inspiration during the research and writing stages of "Lady's Men".

In addition, although they had never met, both were aware of each others links with the Lady Be Good; both were pilots, both flew in WW II, both flew DC-3 Dakotas, both had knee replacements, both had wives that died before them, both died on the same date in two consecutive months of the same year, and both slipped away from similar causes in their 79th year. I am grateful to them both for all their help and, like Vernon Moore, may the souls of Dennis and Charles also rest in peace.

Finally,I am further saddened to report that "gritty" Dick Byers, one of the legendary US airmen that flew the brutal Ploesti Mission, August 1st, 1943, slumped and died at his breakfast table on a Thursday years back after a long illness.

In the late 1980s one of Dick's legs had to be removed and heart trouble followed. But still, with his new tin leg, he soldiered on lecturing all around his State for General Electric. He was a wonderful public speaker.

There was unfortunate timing by the Thursday of Dick's death, or, an overdue, welcomed release for Byers. The latter was probably true that day in Bella Vista, Arkansas.

Near the end, he said, "Give it to me straight Doc’Äîhow long have I got?"

And when the answer came he said, "No way! I don't have time to die, I still have too much to do."

No doubt, as Dick often predicted, his 55th mission was to "That Big Airport In The Sky."

The fearless Richard G. Byers died on Thanksgiving day,1995.



Where are the crew now?


Except for Vernon Moore, all the remains of the Lady's crew are home in America resting in the following places. All but Hays are truly home.

William J. Hatton, Flushing, Queens, New York.
Robert F. Toner, North Attleboro, Massachusetts.
Dp Hays, Arlington Cemetery, Virginia.
John S. Woravka, Cleveland, Ohio.
Harold S. Ripslinger, Saginaw, Michigan.
Guy E. Shelley, Jr, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Robert E. LaMotte, Lake Linden, Michigan.
Samuel E. Adams, Eureka, Illinois.
Vernon E. Moore still lies in the Libyan Desert.

Unlike his comrades except for Moore, Second Lieutenant Dp Hays is not buried close to home but in Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia. Arlington was the choice of his relatives and this ,without question, is an honourable site of repose for a young man who died for his country.

There is, however, something rather distant about the choice of Arlington—special though it may be—for Dp Hays to rest. One would have thought that—as in the case of all the crew of Lady Be Good whose remains were recovered—the kin of Hays would have buried him closer to them, or at his native Sedalia, Missouri, or Kansas City, Kansas, where he was born.

Honorable Cemetery though Arlington may be, the words that the pilot of Lady Be Good—Lt. William Hatton—wrote to his mother seem particularly relevant here. He wrote: 'there is no place like home'.

One can only hope that the soul of Dp Hays rests in peace.

As for the Lady Be Good: in August 1995, what was then left of her was removed from the Libyan Desert by an oil company, and when last seen she was in the back yard of a police compound in Tobruk, Libya.

May she also rest in peace.