Posted on 01/01/2003 4:40:46 PM PST by Cagey
Maybe sometime in that better place he has now attained.
published: 1/2/2003
State's youngest governor, WW II pilot dies at 87
Joe Foss carried himself with the unerring bearing of a compass and lived a plain-spoken life as open as the wide Pacific skies where he became an American hero.
Shooting down 26 Japanese fighters was remarkable.
Serving as South Dakota's youngest governor was distinguishing, and being honored with a statue in the lobby of the Sioux Falls Regional Airport is impressive.
A resume that included heading up a professional football league and hosting outdoors TV shows made him enviable to men.
The most notable thing about Foss, however, as he takes his place in history after his death Wednesday at age 87, is that there are so few unanswered questions about him. What you saw is what you got.
"I've lived in Pierre my whole life," says Gov.-elect Mike Rounds. "The governors who lived here were part of the community. Joe Foss was one of those individuals about whom there was no second guessing. He was beyond reproach. He was truly a class act."
Foss died in a hospital near his Scottsdale, Ariz., home. He spent the last month there after he suffered cerebral bleeding and collapsed before making a public appearance in Beaverton, Mich., in October.
Foss first wrote his name widely across the public consciousness in the trying days early in World War II. Between October 1942 and January 1943 at Guadalcanal, Foss, the executive officer of Marine Fighting Squadron 121, known to its members as Joe's Flying Circus, shot down a confirmed 26 Japanese planes and possibly several others. He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, appeared on the cover of Life Magazine and led his boyhood hero, Charles Lindbergh - a civilian airplane design consultant at the time - into unauthorized combat missions against the Japanese.
In an interview long after the war, Foss shrugged off that rules breach.
"If you're qualified, I don't care where you came from," he says. "Doesn't bother this cowboy."
Foss was born April 17, 1915, on a farm near Sioux Falls and almost immediately turned his eyes skyward.
"I can't remember a time when I didn't want to fly" is the opening sentence in his 1992 autobiography, "A Proud American."
Foss graduated from Washington High School and attended Sioux Falls College and Augustana College before transferring to the University of South Dakota, where he and fellow aviation-minded classmates persuaded university officials to establish a civilian aeronautics administration course.
Persuading people apparently came easily to him.
"Joe was liked by everyone. Liking Joe was no big deal. He was a man-about-campus. Even when he was a senior and I was a lowly freshman, he was very nice to me and friendly," Beryl Ritz of Sioux Falls remembers.
His ability to charm Vermillion held up over six decades. USD President Jim Abbott remembers a dinner with Foss several years ago, when Foss had returned to campus to take part in a Farber Center conference.
"He was a great storyteller," Abbott says. "He had such an interesting life. One moment he would be talking about being on a quiz show with Tom Brokaw, and the next moment he was talking about Madame Chiang Kai-shek at the Waldorf Towers in New York, where he lived when he was commissioner of the American Football League."
Foss was featured prominently in Tom Brokaw's book "The Greatest Generation."
"He had a hero's swagger but a winning smile to go with his plain talk and movie-star looks," Brokaw wrote. "Joe Foss was larger than life, and his heroics in the skies over the Pacific were just the beginning of a journey that would take him to places far from that farm with no electricity and not much hope north of Sioux Falls."
Larry Ritz of Sioux Falls met Foss after the war and helped him in his successful race for governor in 1954.
"I just thought he was a good, honest, humble person, and I wouldn't have to worry about giving him the key to the state," Ritz says of his decision to help in the race. Another benefit of the campaign was just hanging around with Foss, a Republican.
"He would sit there in the chat sessions, smoking a big cigar, hoisting a libation, and he told stories," Ritz recalls. "He had a lot of war stories. He told about being in the water when he had a plane shot out from under him. He was a great storyteller."
Ritz's enduring image of Foss is "kind of leaning on a podium, maybe he had a toothpick in his mouth, and he told you how it was. Whatever he said, he believed in. That was my friend Joe."
Blunt Honesty
In 1999, Foss celebrated his 84th birthday in Sioux Falls at a fund-raiser for the Easter Seal Society. Foss, whose daughter Cheryl was born with cerebral palsy, bluntly told those at the fund-raiser that before her birth, he was uncomfortable around people with disabilities.
"I never would have touched them with a 10-foot pole. I was uneasy around them until the war, and I saw the things that happened to people," he says.
With his typical head-on approach to challenges, Foss helped raise $18 million as chairman of the Easter Seal Society forerunner, the National Society for Crippled Children and Adults. He announced to the group in Sioux Falls that he was not pleased with the organization's name change.
"Crippled people are crippled. They should not have to apologize and call it some daisy-picking name," he says.
Foss is linked with another World War II air hero from South Dakota, George McGovern. Following his second two-year term as governor in 1958, Foss unsuccessfully challenged McGovern for his congressional seat in the former First District.
"He was a gentleman in that race," McGovern says. "He and I completed that campaign better friends than we began. It is sad he couldn't have had a few more years."
Sportsman & Trailblazer
Foss played football as a reserve lineman at USD. But his real contribution to the game came after he left the governor's office. Between 1959 and 1966, he served as the first commissioner of the wide-open AFL. In that capacity, he helped bring about the sharing of TV revenues among all league franchises that is now the standard in professional football, and he oversaw the AFL's merger with the National Football League.
He also pioneered outdoors broadcasting, serving as host of ABC's seminal outdoors show "American Sportsman" from 1962-1965 and his own syndicated series "The Outdoorsman, Joe Foss" 1966-1974.
Living out his deeply held regard for the Second Amendment, Foss served as president of the National Rifle Association from 1987-1990 and subsequently continued on its governing board. He was reappointed to a three-year term in 2000.
All of that increased his trove of stories, and it reconfirmed his belief in straight talk. In his autobiography, he recounted his decision to give sportswriters immediate access to locker rooms after games.
"I just laid the pipe to them, and some of the coaches were pretty hot about it at first," he wrote of opposition to that decision. He likened it to allowing war correspondents access to pilots in World War II.
"I gave the war correspondents permission to climb up on the airplane wings after we flew back from a mission because I wanted the news to be hot and just exactly what it was," Foss wrote.
"American Sportsman" gave him such adventures as tiger hunting in India and lion hunting in Africa. But he broke with the show because he felt its writers were denigrating hunting.
"The writers really knew nothing about the great outdoors and hunting: they were more familiar with dog tracks and horse races and professional sports," Foss wrote.
His widely varied political and professional career enriched his life. But it also cost Foss a marriage. He wed high school sweetheart June Shakstad in 1942. After having four children, they separated in 1959. Foss married Donna "DiDi" Wild Hall in 1967.
Beryl Ritz was a close friend of Foss' first wife.
"He was a wonderful husband to June because he had a real good sense of humor," she recalls. "He would tease her in a very friendly way, and she loved it.
"But one thing happened that was very sad. His work took him away, and he was home very little. He wanted June to come with him, but it wasn't possible for her. She had Cheryl, who had cerebral palsy, and she felt she belonged here in Sioux Falls so Cheryl could go to the Crippled Children's Hospital school.
"That did not do well for their marriage."
The divorce "broke June's heart," Ritz says. She says her friend died several years later from complications of diabetes.
That shows Foss was not immune from the trials of life. But his fundamental optimism and self-confidence guided him through such tragedies, friends say. In recent years, those who knew Foss knew him as a man of strong religious convictions.
"He was active in the Campus Crusade for Christ, and that is what brought him back here to South Dakota most often," says Gordon Fosness of Sioux Falls, regional director for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes.
"I heard him say once that he was bobbing up and down in the Pacific Ocean and he thought he would have received Christ and began praying, but he didn't," Fosness says.
"He was very outspoken about things, very wholesome, spoke from the heart."
Foss' wife, DiDi, was the inspiration in his spiritual life.
"She had a very strong impact on him," Fosness says.
Foss writes about undergoing a religious rebirth during a year in which he slowly recovered from inadvertently poisoning himself while bird hunting by absently chewing on corn stalks that had been sprayed with an arsenic compound.
"In my eyes, he is an outstanding man," Beryl Ritz says. "In later years, the way he loved the Lord, he wanted to tell everybody he could about his experiences. He cared about people."
Airport Statue
Tributes to Foss flow freely.
"Joe Foss will be remembered more than anything as an absolute, courageous fighter for freedom," Rep.-elect. Bill Janklow says. "He helped form the Air National Guard in Sioux Falls and was their first commander."
Larry Ritz was co-chairman of the committee that raised the money for the statue of Foss at the airport. Testament to the high regard in Foss was held comes from the fact that besides raising money for the statue, "we asked everybody to be generous, and we said the excess would be put in a scholarship fund," Ritz says. More than $100,000 was raised, endowing six college scholarships. Applicants must write essays about personal values and patriotism. Ritz says many of those essays refer to Foss "relative to his being a hero. The writers say Ôhe was my grandpa's hero' or Ôhe was my father's hero.' "
Sylvia Henkin of Sioux Falls led the effort to get the statue of Foss at the airport moved from a corner to the center of the terminal.
"It was just ridiculous where they placed it. It was disrespectful," says Henkin. "Now when you walk in there, you see a Sioux Falls boy, a regular guy, a national hero."
Mike Marnach, airport manager, says the bronze statue of Foss dominating the airport lobby draws regular attention from travelers.
"People come by and take pictures by it. People come by and read the plaque. People do pay a lot of attention to the statue of Joe," he says.
As recently as last month, Marnach says, the airport board dealt with the statue, directing him to see that a rope is put around it to prevent people from sitting on the pedestal. The concept of keeping people at a distance, however, is probably anathema to the gregarious Foss, who is survived by his wife, two children and two stepchildren.
"He will go down in history as one of our greatest leaders, one of our most respected as well," Rounds says.
"He was one of those special gifts, a treasure a state is blessed with on a very rare basis. He was a war hero. At the same time, he was a politician and a statesman.
"He was very much a strong believer in our way of life, our rights, our freedoms and our liberties.
"You remember Joe Foss as being for the American way."
Significant events in the life of Joe Foss
1915: born near Sioux Falls
1934: began college in Sioux Falls but dropped out to help on farm
1937: first flying lesson
1939: enlisted in South Dakota National Guard and entered the University of South Dakota in Vermillion
1940: soloed, graduated from USD and accepted appointment as aviation cadet in Marine Corps
1942: married June Shakstad
1942: arrived at Guadalcanal; awarded Distinguished Flying Cross, presented by Adm. William F. Halsey; recorded 23 air victories in first six weeks of combat
1943: awarded Congressional Medal of Honor by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. One of 10 Outstanding American Award Jaycees
1944: promoted to major
1946: resigned from Marine Corp Reserve to accept appointment as lieutenant colonel in South Dakota Air National Guard, which he helped found
1948: elected to South Dakota House of Representatives
1950: promoted to colonel, South Dakota Air National Guard
1951: activated for Korean conflict
1953: promoted to brigadier general, South Dakota Air National Guard
1955: took office as governor of South Dakota, the youngest ever, at age 39
1955: Joe Foss Field named in Sioux Falls, dedicated by Adm. Halsey
1956-1961: President of National Society of Crippled Children and Adults
1956: honored on Ralph Edwards' TV program "This is Your Life"
1956: re-elected to second term as governor
1959: separated from June Shakstad Foss
1959-1966: served as Commissioner of the American Football League
1961: elected president of Air Force Association (later chairman of the board)
1962: began three-year run as host of ABC-TV's "American Sportsman"
1966-1974: starred in weekly syndicated television series "The Outdoorsman: Joe Foss"
1967: married Donna Wild Hall
1968: named chairman of Veterans for Nixon
1972-1978: served as director of public affairs, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines
1975: retired as a brigadier general from Air Force
1978: named member of President's Council on Physical Fitness
1979: named member of White House Conference on Handicapped Individuals
1980: awarded Outstanding American Award by the Los Angeles Philanthropic Foundation
1983: named International Chairman of Here's Life World. Received National Veteran Award for 1983
1984: inducted into Aviation Hall of Fame
1987-1990: served as president of the National Rifle Association
1990: named founding chairman of the American Patriot Fund - Landing Zone Foss established in Saudi Arabia (during Desert Storm campaign)
1991: inducted into South Dakota Aviation Hall of Fame. Published "Top Guns: America's Fighter Aces Tell Their Stories" (with Matthew Brennan)
1992: Inducted into Scandinavian-American Hall of Fame
Compiled by Patti Curry and Denise D. Tucker
The Associated Press contributed to this report. Reach Peter Harriman at 575-3615 or pharrima@ argusleader.com.
I was speaking with Joe's son, Dean, at a luncheon a couple of weeks ago. Dean told us quite a bit about Joe's condition, what they expected, and then finished with a wonderful comment. Dean said, "Dad has as strong a faith as any man I know, and is ready to meet our Lord Jesus Christ."
This, then, is something else the press will never pass on to their readers.
Rest in Peace, Sir.
Actually Foss was mustered out of the Marine Corps reserve due to downsizing, his reserve commission and his age. The appointment to the SDANG came about later.
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| "Hairy Dog" Missions With "Old" Joe Foss Story by R. R. Keene |
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"Old" Joe Foss once shot down Japanese Zeros the way he used to shoot down pheasant in South Dakota, where they learn, at an early age, to shoot and talk straight. Now, at age 84, retired Air National Guard Brigadier General Joseph Jacob Foss--winner of the Medal of Honor, World War II Marine flying ace and former governor of South Dakota--sits behind a big western belt buckle and bolo tie and says in a bold voice: "I'm here today compliments of the Lord, not by my great ability. I'm the most fortunate guy in the world. I've had one miracle after another in my life. I crashed once into a herd of Holsteins, and the Lord took care of me 'cause I didn't hit one of 'em." The Holsteins came many crashes and many years after Foss fought in the Pacific. They do, however, serve as a reference point to bring one full circle in the life of a man who started with cattle and farming, went to war, flew fighter planes and came back again. Foss was born to Norwegian and Scotch-Irish parents on a farm three miles east of Sioux Falls. His first crash with cattle came when he and his brother Clifford mounted an "old nag" and took off after strays. "[The horse] was going full throttle; I couldn't stop him. When we reached the gate, he put on his brakes. It was the world's most decisive stop." Clifford broke his arm. Joe landed rough, but in one piece. And that set the tone for his future adventures. It also got Joe to thinking that farming might not be for him. His father had been killed in a farming accident, and Joe, then a junior in high school, worked the farm for four years before giving it over to his brother. "I went off to college, got my degree and I've never been sorry." He had wanted to be a Marine since the eighth grade. Even more than that, he wanted to be a pilot. Back in 1931, Marine aviators breezed into Sioux Falls to put on an aerial stunt exhibition. Foss said, "[The exhibition] really impressed me. I even met the pilots. You know the amazing thing? Those four lieutenants flying those airplanes were later, at one time or another, my commanding officers during World War II." It was only a matter of time before young Joe reached in his coveralls and shelled out five bucks for his first plane ride in a "bucket of bolts." After that, he reached for the sky. He took extra jobs pumping gas and playing the alto saxophone for the municipal band to pay for flying lessons. By the time he graduated from the University of South Dakota's School of Business Administration, he'd logged more than 100 hours. While in college, Foss joined the Army National Guard in 1937. "I was with the 147th Field Artillery, so I know what it is like to be down at the end of the totem pole. In the old days, if you were a private you didn't get in on all that was going on. You really didn't care. You wanted to enjoy things as much as you could. I really enjoyed it. It was like being a second lieutenant. "When I was in college, one of my close friends went into the Marine Corps, and he came back telling all these great things. He had his wings too. Boy, I couldn't wait to get out of college. I went straight to the Marine Corps the day I graduated." In 1940, with $5 in his pocket, Foss hitchhiked 300 miles to Minneapolis and volunteered for the Marines. A few months later, with $6.87 in his pocket, he hitchhiked to the naval air station at Pensacola, Fla. "To me, flying was always like walking. It came natural." Apparently, his commanding officers thought so too. Once Foss was commissioned as a Reserve officer, he earned his wings, was promoted rapidly to captain and became a flight instructor. While teaching others, he found that flying is not "natural" to all. "Once I [and a student] went into a spin, almost hit another plane and dove into the ground. Both of us were covered with black and blue marks. That taught me to stay wide awake." When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Foss--like every red-blooded American--wanted to go where the action was. Foss's commanders refused his requests for transfer saying that, at 27 years of age, Foss was too old. " 'Too damned ancient' were the words they used." However, men with Foss's unique skills are always needed in war. By September 1942, Old Joe Foss was on Guadalcanal. There, he was joined by men who similarly possessed his skills as a Grumman F4F Wildcat pilot of Marine Fighter Squadron 121. Anyone who flew off Henderson Field on Guadalcanal remembers its pockmarked landscape. "Besides the craters, there were foxholes and slit trenches and many wrecked planes. It wasn't much more than a cow pasture hacked out of the jungle," Foss said. But in late 1942, it was the center of war in the Pacific. Everything was riding on the Navy offshore and the Marines fighting under the thick jungle canopy with Marine flyers fighting for them in the air. "Twice, the enemy fleet came in and went back and forth firing at us, and we couldn't do a thing about it," remembered Foss. "We were right in the middle of the impact area. They started firing right around 9:30 p.m., October 12, and, as I recall, never stopped until 4:30 the next morning. We were under 14-inch guns and bombs from their airplanes all night. "A lot of people had gotten killed. We were down to seven fighters, and there were only two or three TBF (Grumman Avenger torpedo bomber) planes that were able to fly. But, our men were magicians at fixing them up while our troops up in the trenches were fighting tooth and toenail to keep the enemy from breaking through. A month later, the Japanese bombed the island again. "They were raising Cain, and we wanted to get 'em. War is not safe. People who have never lived it don't realize how tough it really is. When you're fighting for your country, you go above and beyond. You just get a fire under you. A man or woman has to be so dedicated that your life doesn't mean anything to you." Foss had not come to the Pacific to dodge Japanese explosives. He was a fighter pilot who bagged his first Zero four days after arriving in the Solomons. Japanese pilots took it personally and chased him back to the "Canal." "Somewhere in the scrape, I took a round in the oil pump, and my engine burned out. It was a long drive back to Henderson Field with three Zeros on my tail. I didn't dare to slow up for an approach and came in like a rocket. "They rolled out an ambulance to pick up the pieces, but I was lucky enough to stop before I hit the stumps at the end of the runway." He launched again the next day and shot down another Zero. Five days later, he splashed three more and became an ace. In four weeks of aerial combat, flight leader Foss and his "Flying Circus" of seven other Marines blasted 47 of Japan's best fighter pilots and their aircraft from the skies over the South Pacific. Foss was credited with downing 23. He would eventually equal World War I ace Eddie Rickenbacker by shooting down 26 enemy aircraft. "I'd learned to shoot good in South Dakota, but I still got shot down four times. I just got the most breaks." Foss explained: "I got shot up quite a bit and people always ask, 'Were you afraid?' Yeah. You see, they always had us outnumbered, usually six to one. The Zero was faster and more maneuverable. What we had was firepower and durability. If we hit a Zero, he was in trouble. "We used a formation called a scissors weave, which allowed us to see and point our guns in all ways like a cactus. There was no way they could touch you without the cactus exploding with six .50-caliber guns blasting from each airplane. So, the enemy would break off sometimes. Other times they'd bear in and we'd get 'em on a head-on pass, which would make anybody nervous. "When that airplane blows up, it's a dangerous thing. Pieces of junk fly in all directions. That engine is a free agent and just goes wild weasel. You don't know where the thing is going to go. "There was one man I shot down who jumped out the second I hit his airplane. I almost flew into him. You know, I met that guy later, and he claims he shot me down twice before I shot him down. "In the excitement of the whole thing, you are charged up and always ready to go. No one ever refused a mission, at least not in my outfit. We all expected to survive. We never gave a thought that by tomorrow one or two of us could be gone. In the Battle of Savo Island, my flight was the decoy that went over to draw the enemy fire [by diving] on a battleship. Looking back, that seems like a silly thing for grown men to do, but we did it. We caught all the fire. "I think that was the mission on which I was most scared: flying over the enemy fleet and then diving right into the middle of it. I thought I might be able to walk on the lead from the pompom guns shooting at me from the deck of that battleship. There were just rows and rows of them. I was coming absolutely straight down, and they were shooting a few feet or inches under the belly of my plane. "I got so interested in watching my .50-caliber bullets bounce off the deck that I almost flew into the ship. At the last second, I missed the superstructure and came down over the water. My seven boys that were following almost did the same thing, but all made it alive. That's what I call a hairy dog mission." The mission that Foss recalls the most was "19 November 1942. That was almost the end of Old Joe. I sank with the airplane." Foss and his Marines launched to stop Japanese destroyers and cargo ships from resupplying their troops who were starving on Guadalcanal. They spotted the ships steaming off Florida Island. Foss said, "Low and behold, there were six Zeros right beneath us. They never saw us." It was too tempting a target. Foss said to his men, "Let's take 'em." Then it turned into what Foss recalls as "a strange mission. One of my men, Danny Doyle, kept chasing a Zero. Maybe his guns jammed, because he didn't shoot. He just kept chasing that airplane. He chased it into a dive. He had the altitude and was traveling like greased lightening. He ran right into the Zero. So, I lost Danny Doyle. "We didn't lose any time. We just, boom, shot those Zeros down." Foss's flight gained altitude, climbing to join with the torpedo planes and dive bombers to attack the Japanese flotilla. "I popped out of the clouds right over the edge of the enemy ships, and they were firing on my tail-end Charlie. So, we started peeling off when this Zero came out of the soup right in front of me. "I made a shot at him and that was a mistake." Foss overshot the Zero--nearly colliding with it. "Of course, as I went by I got drilled." Foss made a quick check. Everything seemed to be working, so he brought his plane around. "I came up and made a belly shot that brought him down. Another Zero came out of the soup." Foss got that one too. "But, just then my engine quit." He pulled the throttle back, shoved it on and the engine cranked over, but only enough to tease him. It sputtered out once again. All the while, Foss was very aware of the altitude he was losing. "I knew I wasn't going to be making a run on the ships. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could." Foss broke off and made his run for Henderson Field. What he hadn't initially noticed were the Zeros that followed. "A whole flock of 'em. But, I slid into the soup. It was solid storm. The clouds saved me. They didn't come in after me. I had gotten by on the hair of my chin." Almost. While Foss may have shaken the Japanese, his Wildcat's stops and starts were numerous, and each time they occurred closer together. His altitude dropped lower and lower. It was obvious the law of gravity was not about to be repealed. Foss looked for an island. "Three of the four times I was shot down, I landed at Henderson Field, which was lucky because I don't know how to swim--and didn't then [either]." There was another problem. It was nearly dark, and odds on being seen were getting longer. He spotted an island and swung in as close as possible hoping the island wasn't occupied by the Japanese. "I hit the water with a real bang. I made two serious mistakes. I didn't jettison the canopy and I didn't get totally out of my chute, and here I was in trouble because of it." His canopy, which was open, slammed shut when the plane hit the water. "The safety catch caught it and water rushed in. It was like being under Niagara Falls. I started breathing it. I was drowning, plain and simple. I floated up because I had that chute under my butt and the silk was buoyant." He managed to get the canopy open. "The plane was going straight down. My whole life was passing by me up to the point where the guys were saying, 'Poor Old Joe's gone. He's shark bait.' They were dividing my gear, and I didn't like it. I finally got loose and floated up butt first with the chute still on. I was half conscious, coughing violently, throwing up, just having a terrible time. I got my life jacket inflated and realized the tide was going out to sea. I thought I was a gone gosling. "Looking back on it, the chances of me getting out of that deal alive were zero. For someone to see me go in, and then to find me in the sea at night would take a miracle." Someone did see Foss go in. The man, a native of Malaita Island, ran to a mission run by Catholic priests and nuns. "He told them there was a bird man out there, which was me." The miracle came in the form of an outrigger canoe with a Dutch priest and an on-the-lamb Australian mill operator. "It was pitch-dark, and I didn't see the outrigger until is was right there. I was convinced by the sounds that they were the enemy, so I let them go right by me. Pretty soon I heard this voice say, 'Let's look over 'ere.' I knew that was a limey voice, so I said in a roar that could of been heard in New York, 'Yeah! Right here!' The next thing I know, a hand reaches down belonging to the priest. They rescued me and took the parachute. The nuns made it into vestments of the church, which I understand are still there. The good Lord saved me. I had nothing to do with it." But, it was Foss's tenacity that kept him going. "I grew fond of going at the Zeros head on, as if attempting to ram them. On a head-on approach, we usually got a good shot when the Zero slow-rolled, looped or made a climbing turn to avoid our attack. "I remember [Lieutenant] Colonel [Harold W.] "Joe" Bauer issued this order: 'When you see Zeros, dogfight 'em!' We did. I worked with a lot of fellows, but I've never encountered a gang with such spirit. They were a team out to win, and they just couldn't be beaten." Foss remembers them all. It is impossible that he would ever forget them: Bill Marontate, Greg "Little Nemo" Loesch, "Old" Rog Haberman, "Big" Bill Freeman, Oscar Bate, Thomas "Boot" Furlow and Frank "Skeezix" Presley. "Five men who were original members of the flight or had been with it at one time are now gone: Danny Doyle, Casey Brandon, Joe Palko, Andy Andrews and Gene Nuwer. They gave their lives for this country." Foss went on to Washington, D.C., where President Franklin D. Roosevelt hung the Medal of Honor around his neck. The Corps released him from active service as a major. "I wanted to get a regular commission in the Marine Corps. But, they had some dumb rule, and when I applied they said I was two weeks too old." He wasn't too old for the South Dakota Air National Guard, who made him a squadron commander. Foss also got into politics and won a seat in the state house of representatives. In 1955, he started the first of his two terms as governor of South Dakota. He has served as the first national chairman of fund-raising for the Crippled Children Society, seven years as commissioner of the American Football League and as the host of the ABC television program "American Sportsman." He retired as a brigadier general and chief of staff in his state's air guard. "I still enjoy flying. I even had a couple of crashes: once into the side of a hill and once with those Holsteins. Every now and then somebody still lets me take a hack at it. I can still take off and land with no problem." Today he does mostly consulting work. "I give lots of talks in the year to various organizations. They ask me to come in and talk for 10 minutes or so. But, anymore, it takes 10 minutes just to clear my throat." More recently, he was asked to be "the 'kicker-offer' for the 1999 Marine Corps Reserve's Toys for Tots [program]." Foss has kept in contact with the Corps. "The Marines are the best when it comes to getting the job done. You don't get all tangled up in paperwork in the Marine Corps. They make a decision and accomplish the mission right now. Their training is the best training program that ever existed. They are morally, spiritually, physically and every other way number one. It is the truth and no one denies it. "I wish every American could go to the recruit depot at San Diego on graduation day. Some guys come there more or less looking like crumb bums. They go out of there like first-rate gentlemen. "Those men I served with who were killed and who gave their lives for this country, they were martyrs who believed in this country and who believed in our system. It is because of them that I can enjoy life. I can enjoy this country, enjoy the world. At 84, there aren't many of us still going. Most are sitting in their rocking chairs somewheres. After all the things that have happened, I never have mellowed down. Life has only slowed down to just a dull roar." "Old" Joe Foss, who once shot down Japanese Zeros the way he used to shoot down pheasant in South Dakota, still talks as straight as he used to shoot.
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Yet another warrior of that generation moves to Valhalla. We are diminished.
The name of said airport, of course, is Joe Foss Field. :-)
Semper fi and Godspeed, Gov. Foss, from a fellow So. Dak. native.
FAIRFAX, VA -- "He was an ace fighter pilot, a state governor, a war hero, a TV star, a sports commissioner, a Christian leader and a man beloved by all. And, he was our president," NRA Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre said today in memory of General Joe Foss who died yesterday. He was 87.
"General Foss was a true patriot, in every sense of the word," continued LaPierre. "He will forever be remembered as someone who epitomized courage, fidelity and honor. His loss is shared by freedom loving people throughout our nation. I will miss my friend."
"The passing of Joe Foss is a great loss for our nation and all Americans who were enriched by his love of country, integrity, duty and ever-cheerful inspiration. Patrick Henry once said that honor is a gift a man must bestow upon himself. I have known no man of more honor than Joe Foss. I will miss his smile, his laughter and his friendship," said legendary actor and NRA President Charlton Heston.
General Foss' life was one of meritorious distinction. A few of his achievements were:
Medal of Honor recipient
Distinguished Flying Cross recipient
Founder, South Dakota Air National Guard
Governor, South Dakota, 1954-1958
Representative, South Dakota Legislature, 1948-1953
Commissioner, American Football League, 1959-1966
Husband, Father and Grandfather
"General Foss defined heroism for servicemen since World War II. And for generations, he made American patriotism something to be proud of. He fought for what he believed in, and those causes are better for it," LaPierre concluded.
The prayers and blessings of the entire National Rifle Association family are with the Foss family during this most difficult time.
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