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Faithlife

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From the files of this venerable broadcaster-some startling revelations about history's heroes

More of Paul Harvey's Rest of the Story


 


 


Condensed from

"Paul Harvey's The Rest of the Story"

Paul Aurandt


 


 The Little Red Wagon

He was born to wealthy parents who hoped for a distinguished ca­reer for their son. Perhaps that's why his dad was so disturbed by the boy's interest at age 13 in dangerous explosives. What would he be when he grew up? A safecracker?

The teen-ager protested that his firecrackers and skyrockets were marvelous sources of energy that could be tapped constructively.

One day the boy obtained six skyrockets from a friend and tried to figure out how to put them to use. Idly, he looked out over the front lawn at a little red wagon. Then it hit him. If just one of those

"PAUL HARVEY'S THE REST OF THE STORY," BY PAUL AURANDT,

EDITED AND COMPILED BY LYNNE HARVEY, COPYRIGHT O 1977 BY

PAULYNNE. INC., WAS PUBLISHED BY DOUBLEDAY & CO., INC.,

245 PARK AVE., NEW YORK, N.Y. 10167. ILLUSTRATION OF PAUL HARVEY: CHUCK HAMRICK. WOODCUTS: DAVID FRAMPTON


rockets could lift itself high into the sky, maybe several of them could turn that wagon into a projectile!

Quickly he tied two rockets to each side of his wagon. His heart pounding in anticipation, he lit the fuses and jumped clear. Then, with a blast, the rockets ignited and surged the wagon down the street at an amazing speed!

Elated, the boy bolted down the street after it. The rockets   finally


MORE OF PAUL HARVEYS REST OF THE STORY


burned out, five blocks away, with a magnificent explosion. Neighbors ran from their houses and saw a breathless, exuberant boy, dancing about the charred chassis of a child­hood toy. Then the police arrived.

"It worked, it worked!" was all the youth could say. And then the ecstatic youngster was taken into custody.

After his father arrived to take him home, the child was severely reprimanded. But he never got over the excitement, and eventually he grew to distinguish himself as few others ever have in the field of rocket technology.

The boy whose toys ceased to be toys went on to achieve his doctor­ate at 22. So respected was he that his country called on him to head its rocket research.

But his country wasn't ours. At 24 he was making rockets for Hit­ler—the V-2s that lashed London. Then when the Allies were closing in and surrender was either to the Russians or the Americans, he came to work for us. Without him, the United States might never have gained the lead in space. Without him, there might have been no Sat­urn V that carried men to the moon.

And all because a little boy in a German suburb thought he could make his wagon "fly." In a way, it reached the stars.

As you may know by now, his name was Wernher von Braun.

Paul Aurandt, Paul Harvey's son, is the writer for his father's series "The Rest of the Story." 18


Bell's Belles

Once there was a speech ther­apist, a teacher whose compas­sion for the deaf was so great that he spent every spare moment ex­perimenting with ways to help them learn to speak. These experi­ments eventually led the young man to investigate the elec­trical transmis­sion of sound and to invent a revolutionary apparatus that came to be known as the telephone. That teacher was, of course, Alexander Graham Bell.

But you just thin\ you know THE REST OF THE STORY . . .

If it's true that behind every great man is a woman, then it was doubly true of Alexander Graham Bell. Two women greatly inspired him: his mother and his wife. Bell's mother, Eliza, helped direct his childhood attention to the study of speech. Whenever Alec set about on his enterprises and hobbies, the original "Ma Bell" was always there to encourage him.

Enter Mabel Hubbard, the sec­ond belle in Bell's life—his wife. Alec met Mabel in Boston. Their story weaves the romantic tapestry of a 19th-century novel.

She, youthful, lovely, rich.

He, brilliant, ardent, poor.

Together they encountered the


 


READER'S DIGEST

traditional obstacles of initial pa­rental objection to the marriage and public ridicule of his genius. And yes, they eventually succeeded. Mabel, like Alec's mother, inspired Bell through love and devotion— and perhaps, through something else.

Alexander Bell's occupation, first and foremost, was his work with those who could not hear. Isn't it ironic, then, that his beloved students could never benefit from his most celebrated invention, the telephone? It is even more ironic when you consider that the two women who gave him inspiration could never fully appreciate it either.

For they also—his mother and his wife—were deaf.


The Man Who Loved Sea Gulls

About sunset, on a lonely stretch along the eastern Florida seacoast, you could often see an old man walking, his hand gripping a bucket filled with fish.

Soon the sky would become a mass of dancing dots growing larger— as great numbers of sea gulls came to meet the old man. He would stand on the beach, surround­ed by fluttering white, till his pail was empty. But the gulls would linger. Perhaps one would perch comfortably on the old man's hat, and a certain day


 


 

 


 



| MORE OF PAUL HARVEY'S REST OF THE STORY |

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gone by would gently come to mind. Eventually, all of the old man's days were past. If the gulls still return to that spot, it is not for food but to pay homage to the secret of a gentle stranger.

Anyone who remembers October 1942 may remember the day that Captain Eddie Rickenbacker was re­ported lost at sea. His mission had been to deliver a message of the utmost importance to General Doug­las MacArthur, then headquartered in New Guinea. But somewhere over the South Pacific, Rickenbacker and his men had to ditch their B-17 Flying Fortress in the ocean.

For nearly a month Captain Ed­die and his seven companions drift­ed in their three rafts, fighting the


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water, the weather and the scorch­ing sun, recoiling as giant sharks rammed their rafts.

But starvation proved to be their most formidable enemy: it would take a miracle to sustain them. And a miracle occurred.

In Captain Eddie's own words: "That afternoon we finished the service with a prayer for deliver­ance and a hymn of praise. Talk tapered off in the oppressive heat. With my hat pulled down to keep out the glare, I dozed off. Then something landed on my head. I knew that it was a sea gull. Peering out from under my hat brim with­out moving, I could see everyone staring at that gull. It meant food— if I could catch it."

Captain Eddie caught the gull. Its


S1987 Whirlpool Corp.


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MORE OF PAUL HARVEY'S REST OF THE STORY


flesh was eaten, and its intestines were used for bait to catch fish. The survivors were sustained and their hopes renewed because a lone sea gull, hundreds of miles from land, offered itself as a sacrifice.

You know that Captain Eddie made it.

And now you also know that he never forgot. Because many an eve­ning, at about sunset, on a lonely stretch of Florida seacoast, you could see an old man walking, slightly bent, his bucket filled with food for the gulls.

An Anthem for the Enemy

War songs. Anthropologists theorize that they were among the first music to be sung. The words to many war anthems are based on sound psycholog­ical principles. What is more en­couraging than the brave deeds of forefathers or a victory predicted in music?


It was so in the American Revolution.

You know the songs we sang. But now you're going to hear about a rhyme that British soldiers sang during the French and Indian War, two decades before the signing of the Declaration of Independence. And they later used it to undercut the courage of the colonists through­out the Revolution, sometimes post­ing troops to sing it outside a church during services. It was meant to taunt us, to make us afraid.

Then a curious thing happened. We stole this melody, words and all, from the voices of our enemies and threw it right back at them. The enemy anthem became a fa­vorite in every American camp. It was heard in battle, in defeat, in victory.

This song was intended to nee­dle our troops—until with incom­parable American mischief we turned the needle around and they got the point.

The Redcoat rhyme that we made our own forevermore was "Yankee Doodle"!


Partner Quip

JVyi neighbor was painting a tilt-in window when the latch gave way and the glass broke on his head. His cuts were minor but the bleeding was profuse.

The paramedics arrived with screaming sirens and were followed by two squad cars and an ambulance. After they bandaged the victim's head, it was decided that he should go with them to the hospital for stitches.

As the blood-spattered painter was being led from his house, his wife saw a crowd of onlookers gathered across the street. Never at a loss for words, she called loudly to her husband, "Next time you'll eat what I

COok."                                                                                                                        —Contributed by Cheri Best

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