Russ Reardon's Quest (Part One)

In the "old days" when newspapers and magazines owned the day, and some of us actually wrote enough articles to at least be known for some expertise in our craft, or lack thereof (I confess to the latter, but I tried. . .), there were occasions when readers sent us letters and postcards.  This was a time when there was no easily accessible public Internet, nor emails, so typewriters and early computerized word processors were standard.

In an article I wrote in the 1970s for the very much now defunct Argosy UFO, a companion magazine to Argosy, a popular "men's magazine," I included a post office box number, and as you might imagine the letters started coming in from readers all over the country.  Many were routine, often from teenagers intrigued by the UFO subject, but there were others from people with scientific credentials and even from professional people who wrote UFO books under assumed names.  I attempted to answer them when possible (except for the anonymous ones with no return address, of course).  One repeat writer insisted satellites overhead were controlling his mind (so maybe they were, how would I know?).

As the 1980s began, one day I received a letter from Isle of Palms in South Carolina, from a man named Russ Reardon.  I replied.  Then I started receiving more letters and enclosures, and then more and more.  I ended up corresponding with Russ for years, into the early nineties.  Writing back and forth was not easy, for Russ's letters overall probably made sense to me about five or so percent of the time.  He was right smart, he was, but expressing himself in letters seemed often to be an exercise in getting to relate only part of what was on his mind, as he excitedly tried to put it into words.

The other thing about Russ was, if I did not answer his letters fast enough, he sent several more until I responded.  He was kind of a rascal.

I believe he was a WW II veteran, and he was old when we began corresponding, as photos demonstrate.

I'm carrying this story into multiple parts.  It is not a big deal, but ends in a way I wish it had not.  Well, there are several edges to this sword.  Anyway, let me just put up some photos Russ sent me, as he did so now and then.  He and his wife are long deceased now, no kids, but lots of friends.

These are from 1984.  One photo shows Russ and his wife Sue outdoors at some gathering, while another is a picture of the house they shared in Isle of Palms.  Russ decided to play baby Jesus while Sue assumed her own spot during the Christmas season.   A fourth photo shows Russ at home with what he claimed were four of their eight cats in the picture.  Hmm, maybe.

(More coming up in Part Two, soon I hope.)