Logan Airport

 

I looked at this guy and said, "The Rolling Stones are coming. Don't tell anybody."



    It was a hot sultry afternoon when I arrived at Logan, and I had deliberately tried to keep in shape on the airplane during the long trip over. Not too much to drink, watch the movie, walk around the cabin a lot, and no attempts to relate to anybody. I whizzed through Customs and found Pilot Bob Adams right away just outside the door. Adams flies our twin-engine Cessna for us, or for me, I should say, since everyone else in the company feels guilty about the thing and how much it costs to fly it around. Even I had been flying around less in it, and was half-convinced that maybe I should sell it, and drive around in automobiles again like normal people do. Half-convinced, I say, because there were moments like this, at the end of a transoceanic trip that began hours earlier on another continent, when the availability and ownership of a fast airplane became an absolute necessity, mercilessly dictated by one's conception of one's role in the world. And so I was very happy to see Pilot Bob Adams, and we moved quickly through the back entrance, out under the big DC-10 which had just flown me from Italy, and into the Courtesy Car. I recognized the kid driving it, and he knew me, too, as the guy who sends rock stars in every so often on their way from Long View Farm, the recording studio. "Back so soon?" he laughed at me. And then I remembered that he had driven meout, from the Twin to the DC-10, only a week earlier. "Who's at the ranch now? Frank Sinatra?"  
    You should have heard what I said then. Make no mistake, I was shortly to become ultra-secretive about the well-known rock band soon to descend on Long View Farm, and even went so far once as to threaten dismissal of any Long View employees needlessly spreading the word, but on the 22nd of July I looked at this guy and said, "The Rolling Stones are coming. Don't tell anybody." 
    And that was one of the funniest things I said during the entire summer. 
    Adams had me back in Worcester in twenty minutes, and twenty minutes after that I was back in the countryside. It was now close to 6 PM, and all Farm personnel were on hand, full of energy, and asking me when I'd be ready to be briefed. 
    "Right away," I said.