Lately, I have spent days sorting and organizing my parents possessions, a collection comprised of years of calendars, newspapers and magazines that tell a story about their lives. In among decades of every greeting card ever received, I pulled out this article from 1985 about Dad’s marine engine business “Rier Marine.” I broke out laughing when I read how he managed to buy a large inventory of engines at low cost. I remembered the stories told at home. Dad bought a train load of Buick engines to marinize for the boats of fishermen and lobstermen.
And 1964 is when Gene’s big break came – the opportunity to buy a large inventory of engines at a reasonable price. The government was after certain specifications in marine engines. Buick had 500 engines for Grumman Allied Industries to put in their Pearson Yachts. The eight engines the government had been given all blew up.
Rier, by this time, had years of experience marinizing Buick engines. He also had a reputation for mechanical wizardry, which was backed up by credentials earned with the US Air Force during World War II. “Well Buick wanted me to check this out [why the engines blew up]. The chief engineer on the project asked me what college I’d graduated from. After I told him Lubec High School, he wasn’t interested in finding out what happened. So I ended up buying the whole mess for very little.”
Dad knew he could marinize the engines, prevent them from blowing up, and make them extraordinarily reliable. He could fix anything, but he was a genius with engines. The chief Buick engineer couldn’t repair the engines and didn’t believe anyone else could, especially a hick from Machias, Maine, who had only graduated from Lubec High School and had no college education. Dad bought 500 Buick engines for a song. The article continues:
My Dad, James Eugene Rier
The Beginning of A Business in Machias Maine. Rier Buick. 1949.
He sent a telegram to my mother, Louise Johnson, announcing his new assignment. They would soon marry and reside at West Point. Dad had undergone basic flight training at Goodfellow Field in San Angelo, Texas, at Parks Air College and was preparing to take his place in the newly expanded US Army Air Corp as a flying second lieutenant.
West Point, Stewart Field, Newburgh, NY. Tent city. Planes, planes, planes. Power glides for instrument landing and legal hedge hopping. A Beechcraft factory churns out planes for World War II.
By June of 1944, West Point had trained hundred of pilots, including the son of Dwight D Eisenhower, supreme commander of Allied Forces in Europe and the sons of other Army Generals.
My mother and father, Louise Adele Johnson and James “Gene” Rier, married on February 15th, 1943 at the Saint Patrick’s Catholic Church in Portland, Maine. Their special day was chosen because it was the day that my grandmother Harriet wed Ezekiel Johnson (and eloped) in 1908, and it was birthday of my great grandmother, Nellie Getchell Means, born February 15th, 1857.
Mom lived and worked in Portland at the time. Dad, now Lieutenant Rier, traveled there from Newburgh, NY where he was an engineer and pilot instructor at West Point, Stewart Field Air Force Base. There was a snow storm. Their families from Downeast Maine, Lubec and Machias, had a time making it to the wedding although Dad’s brother, Babe, and Mom’s mother Harriet, did. It was a long rough drive. Dad’s brother Paul, also stationed at West Point as PFC, was his best man. Mom’s maid of honor was her friend, Margaret Hadley.
After the wedding, Mom and Dad had a short honeymoon Downeast before they drove to Newburgh NY and settled into military housing for the servicemen and their wives.
Mom became a World War II bride in a marriage that lasted their lifetimes.
One of my favorite photos of that day is Mom with a wide smile. She looks so happy. There are photos of Mom with her mother Harriet, the wedding party, and the happy couple back at Stewart Field, West Point in Newburgh, NY.
The news articles…
The newspaper did not report that Dad took Mom up in the plane that day. But I know he did at least once. Dad said he knew she was a keeper when he turned the plane upside down and she laughed. Mom was always cool as a cucumber in the face of unexpected events.
Interestingly, Dad planned to take Mom up in the plane for a rollover for some time. I present the evidence. He wrote on the back of his picture.
“A snap of me. Do you think I’m getting fat? 177 lbs. I did go 152 lbs. I guess the instrument formation day and night and cross country do me good. The planes will do over 200 and sometime if I ever get the chance I’ll really show you how a stomach can roll.”
Mom never lost the trait of staying calm during an adventure. One day in the 1997, my brother David set out to fly Mom to Hanover, NH to visit me at Dartmouth Medical School. Shortly after takeoff, the engine failed. Mom didn’t bat an eyelash. After safely landing, David asked if it scared her. She told him, “Oh no. I wasn’t worried at all. Losing the engine is part of pilot training. You brought the plane back down smooth, just like Dad would.” Mom must have learned a lot about flight training at Stewart Field.
I know for sure if I had been in the plane that day the engine quit, I’d be doing some heavy breathing and stifling a scream.