A
few years ago I decided to take a hiatus from full-time newspaper work that
turned out to last a bit longer than planned.
I love
airplanes and always have since I was a kid! Since I hold a commercial pilot
certificate with single-engine, multi-engine and instrument ratings, I also
held a certified flight instructor rating. It was then I thought I would take a
hand at crop dusting and do some traveling.
Even though
I concentrated on this new adventure I still maintained my writing and
photography competence furnishing copy and pictures for several weekly
newspapers. Another advantage of this new experience was it gave me an
opportunity to meet a lot of interesting people and garner feature material.
One such person, who also became a close friend, was Karl Brauner.
I met Karl
when we flew together with a crop dusting operation at Tulare, California. We
hit it off right from the start. With a shaved bald head he was a muscular man
with a strong square jaw off set with a gentle voice. A generous man he would
give you the shirt off his back if needed.
In the flying business
his manner and appearance seemed incongruous to what you would picture an “ag
pilot.” Most folks would think of a crop duster as a dare-devilish type who
flew under wires and jumped trees with abandon. True, we did this but in
reality every ag pilot I have ever known was a true professional who possessed
an uncanny feel for an airplane. This was the mold of Karl—yet there seemed
something familiar about him that at first I couldn’t put my finger on. Soon I
learned the reason.
In his
former life Karl was a famous professional wrestler known nationally and
internationally as Karl Von Brauner. His real name was Doug Donnan. It was
later when he teamed up with Jerry Brawner as the original “Kurt and Karl Von
Brauner tag team,” that he legally changed his name to Brawner.
Born on a
farm near Ontario, Canada, he and his brother “Red” grew up like most farm
kids. Chores on the farm were the usual fare and they worked hard and it paid
off. Karl at 5 feet, 10 inches and 215 pounds at the time, he and his brother
were in exceptional physical condition, youth being what it is, they were ready
for anything.
One day Karl said he
and his brother were visiting a nearby town when a carnival was putting on a
show. One of the exhibitions he said was a wrestler whose manager bragged that
anyone who could stay in the ring with his man for three rounds could win $50. Both
of the boys were gifted with athleticism and wrestled as amateurs. Recalling
the incident Karl told me that his brother said, “…Hey, he doesn’t look that
tough; go ahead and take ‘em, we can use $50 bucks!” So, peeling off his shirt
Karl climbed into the ring. Smiling back to that time he said, “…I think it
took 15 seconds for me to land on my back in the first row!”
There are
many stories about how Karl got into the wrestling business. He related to me
that he and his brother were getting awfully tired of bucking hay bales and
other farm work. He said he met a retired wrestler who told him that if he
headed to Sarasota, Florida, he could probably find a wrestling job with a
traveling carnival. Taking his advice he was soon on his way.
“There was
an old carnie wrestler who took me under his wing. He taught me very move and
hold I would ever have to know,” I recall his saying. “If a guy stuck out a
finger you broke it! Every dirty trick you needed he taught me. Wrestlin’ some
of them farm kids in the mid-west were tough and if I didn’t win I didn’t eat
that night!” And learn the business he did. It wasn’t long before he left the
carnival life and teamed up with “his twin brother,” Jimmy Brauner. And the
rest is history.
As a tag team they were
the scourge of the wrestling circuit and quickly drew the hatred of fans. They used
every illegal, nastiest, dirtiest dishonest method to won and won several world
championships in the process. They used the gimmick of being the “dirty
Germans” to full advantage and were “feared” by opponents.
Their
manager was a little slight man named Saul Weingeroff. Standing in the middle
of the ring with Karl on one side and Kurt on the other he would bring the
crowds to frenzy shouting in the microphone “his” boys could beat anyone with
one hand tied behind their backs. These were just some of the outlandish
comments he used to incite the crowd. Standing there bare-chested with folded
arms in their black tights and leather boots embossed with the iron cross on
the sides, the “boys” would just glare and snicker at the crowd. They never
said a word.
Since their appearance
followed World War II by a few years, the memory of the European war caused
greater hatred and anger from the audience. I remember watching them on
television years earlier and marveling on how despicable they played the game.
Their gimmick was flawless!
Were all
the matches fixed? Karl would never say. But I do recall his saying that, “You
don’t want to hurt a guy too bad—we all have to make a living!” Yet he admitted
there were other times when he entered the ring with his heart in his throat.
Not all wrestlers liked each other and now and then he said you would run into
someone who wanted to make a reputation for themselves.
Years went
by and eventually Kurt and Karl separated. It was then Karl and Red his brother
teamed up and continued working the circuit as a tag team. But he was getting
older as all of us and “too many body slams,” was taking its toll he later
confessed.
By 1975 it
was time to quit the game. Karl retired from the ring and headed for Texas
where he resumed his love of flying. He sold airplanes for a while before going
into the crop dusting business. And this nearly proved fatal.
In the lower
San Jaquan and Imperial Valleys of California, and the lower part of Arizona,
most of the spraying is done at night time. There are several reasons why;
temperature and wind drift are the two major reasons. Near Phoenix, Arizona,
even near midnight, the temperature can still be as high as 90 degrees. In this
kind of heat an airplane’s load and maneuverability is greatly reduced. All of
these things, along with fatigue, had a terrifying effect and the result was
devastating.
The grind
had been going on for almost a week. Karl was flying nearly all night and
getting little rest during the daytime. He was near exhaustion. After putting
out his last load of the night the sun was beginning to rise in the east and he
was heading back to the landing strip. Flying along at about 50 feet fatigue
took over and he nodded off. The next thing he remembered was climbing from the
burning wreckage on his hands and knees in a pool of flaming gasoline. He
suffered severe burns to his hands and legs but fortunately his crash helmet
helped protect his head and eyes. For years after he flew with gloves with the
fingers cut off because of the pain.
Time and
distance can be a cruel master. Even the best of friendships suffer separation.
I continued spraying for a few more years in different states and Karl remained
in California. We touched bases occasionally but then drifted our separate ways.
I returned to full-time newspaper work and continued flying for recreational pleasure.
Karl continued flying until he was 74. By this time he retired to the northern part
of California where he suffered a stroke. On July 5, 2009, he died at a much
too early stage at age 78. Like I say, he was a gifted pilot and a cherished
friend and I miss him dearly.
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