No one was ever found, despite patrols arriving on the scene almost moments after receiving a report. Hundreds. More unnerving, though, were the accounts that came from the residents of the nearby mobile home park, which was adjacent to the crash site. And no doubt those qualities drew Sheldon to her. It was the truth. “We’ll take you over to the crash site.” Soon, Gonzales was gazing out at what had once been a verdant field of grass and scrub oak and cornflowers, now a 100-yard-wide swath of scorched earth that looked like it had been leveled by a napalm strike. A minute later, Walter Lux, the 52-year-old captain, got the go-ahead to take off:“American 191. We review them in an effort to remove foul language, commercial messages, abuse, and irrelevancies. They called in about seeing odd, bobbing white lights in the field where the aircraft had gone down. But when it began to bank severely, Warke knew the plane was damaged and in trouble. We will never know for sure as the last word spoken before they lost contact with the flight …

Every emergency vehicle within 50 miles must be here, he thought. In the distance, blue-gray against the gauzy white of a February day, the long body of a passenger jet floated up like a phantom, nosing its way into the pale sky, climbing, climbing, and vanishing. Shel. Again.Still, it hit him. The passengers of Flight 191, including a number of Chicago literary figures bound for Los Angeles and the annual American Booksellers Association conference, mixed with the throngs of people at O’Hare airport.

Not for himself. What was that? Along with her husband, Sheldon, she was taking a trip to Los Angeles for the American Booksellers Association convention, one of the biggest publishing events of the year.

From his window seat, he watched the landscape spool by: the crisscrossing runways and darting luggage trucks, the beacon-waving ground crew, earmuffs clamped to their heads.A failure analyst for Standard Oil, Warke was also a shutterbug. It attributed the cause of the crash to an engine pylon that had been damaged at an American Airlines maintenance facility in March 1979. On May 25, 1979, one of the most horrifying disasters in Chicago and American history took place at O’Hare International Airport when American Airlines Flight 191 literally fell from the sky, killing all of the 271 passengers and crew on board. He stayed just on the fringe, looking in disbelief and wondering, for the first time, how many had died on this spot. It just couldn’t be. Gonzales produced a press pass. Never the less, there have been multiple reports of phantom pilots and stewardesses within this airport. He was cerebral: “His idea of passionate declaration is, ‘I like you more than life itself,’ ” wrote Judy. During subsequent NTSB testing, not one of 13 pilots in simulations re-creating the circumstances was able to save the plane.In the aftermath, all U.S. DC-10 jets were grounded until the issues could be addressed. GHOSTS OF FLIGHT 191 LINGERING SPIRITS OF A CHICAGO DISASTER. For the better part of two decades, she had longed to be a writer. They would be wondering if she was on the flight.

By now, the fire was under control. She felt a wave of shock, panic, disbelief, nausea, “like I was going insane,” she says. Something had happened. he wondered. The disaster stunned the entire country, leading to scores of questions about the DC-10 aircraft and how the loss of only one engine had sealed the fate of Flight 191. She, on the other hand, ran hot, given at times to “virulent attacks of sentimentality.” For one of the couple’s annual Valentine’s Day parties, she dressed their dog as Cupid. They checked their bags, walked together to Gate K-5, and, along with 256 other passengers, buckled into their bucket seats, which were arranged mostly in rows of nine, broken up by two aisles, in the wide-bodied jumbo jet.At 3:01 p.m., the DC-10 paused for an incoming plane. The images flickered by in an unending stream of horror: firefighters and rescue workers walking through a hellscape of smoking rubble, small red, yellow, and black flags flapping from four-foot-high metal stakes marking bodies and pieces of bodies.

He blew an engine.”The voice of a pilot in a passing Cessna crackled through: “Oh shit.”“American, uh, 191,” Rucker radioed, “do you want to come back — and to what runway?”Twenty seconds into the flight, Dillard’s earlier decision to decrease speed — as called for in such emergencies — had unintentionally put the plane into a stall. It quickly stabilized and the plane continued its descent. As it did so, the entire engine and pylon tore loose from their mounting, flipped up and over the wing, and crashed down onto the runway.

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