Tuesday, July 28, 2009

For What It's Worth

January 2, 2002

Rooftop of the CNN Center

Atlanta, Georgia

At 9:37pm on December 23rd, 2001, Billy left a voicemail on my cell phone. I didn’t get it until nearly midnight because I was MC'ing the office party.

BILLY: Cool. Voicemail. This actually makes it easier to say. Um . . . Heh, still kinda weird to say . . . but I’m joining the army. I’ve been reading and watching everything they’ve been doing over there and I think I could really help. I’ve been talking to Colonel McGuiness and I’m going to go to boot camp after the new year. I know I’m just a kid, I know what you’re going to say, “people die in wars, this is serious, blah blah blah.” I know. But I still can’t help but think that with my ability, I could save some lives and take down some bad guys. I’m a little scared but I think I'm more excited than scared. I wonder what boot camp’s gonna be like? Do you think they’ll tailor it to fit me? Since I can fly? That’d be cool. It could be like Battle School – did you ever read Ender’s Game? Awesome book. Orson Scott Card. Check it out. Anyway. Just thought you should know. Merry Christmas.

CLICK.

Ten days pass. Billy doesn't answer his phone. He doesn't respond to my e-mails. Ten days pass and then INCOMING beeps on my cell phone. I instantly abandon the conference call I’m on and head to the roof. Billy’s already there, standing with a blond girl he introduces as “Leigh.”

BILLY: This is Leigh.

I recognize her instantly. Between December 23 and January 2, Billy did communicate with me once.

On New Year's Eve, Billy sent me a picture he had taken with his phone. It was of a girl balancing on one foot, trying to slip into more comfortable shoes at whatever party they were at. She was slipping into skater shoes, an odd juxtaposition with her her black evening dress. Captioning the photo was, "Heading up and out. See if you can spot us!"

She now stands before me, shifting her weight back and forth. Her smile is both nervous and excited. She's small and fit, somehow shorter than Billy, who's shorter than me, and I'm no Goliath at 5'8". Her shoulder-length blond hair must be new to her. She keeps trying to tuck it behind her ears, but it keep whipping in front of her face.

LEIGH: Hi.

ME: Tim Craine, pleased to meet you.

LEIGH: Oh, I know who you are. My dad and I used to watch you every night on Comedy Central.

ME: This must be a pretty big forty-eight hours for you, then. Getting to make out with America’s superhero on top of the Chrysler Building as the ball drops and then getting to meet me the next day.

LEIGH: You saw that?

ME: Everyone saw that.

BILLY: Tim!

My name has never sounded more like a bark.

BILLY: I need you to be ruder. Do you think you could do that? I don’t think you can.

A tense pause. Leigh blushes and tries to hide her face. In Billy's hurt and angry eyes I see the ass that I am.

ME: Sorry.

BILLY: Holy cow, dude. I come by here to see you one last time, and to introduce you to Leigh and you’re acting like a jealous little girl – no offense.

Leigh shakes her head. There was none taken.

ME: Sorry. You haven’t been returning my calls and I’ve wanted to talk to you about this joining the army thing and . . .

BILLY: You think maybe there’s a reason I haven’t been returning your calls?

LEIGH: Maybe because you’re pansy liberal democrat who “bleeping hates war?”

BILLY: I wanted to see if he could guess.

LEIGH: Sorry.

ME: I don’t want to meet the man who loves war. But that’s not it, Billy. This isn’t a video game. This isn’t Medal of Honor or whatever you're playing. This is people trying to kill you while you try to kill them.

BILLY: “The point isn’t to die for your country, it’s to make the other poor, dumb bastard die for his.” I know.

ME: But . . .

BILLY: My dad was in Vietnam. I know war’s hell.

ME: He told you all about it?

BILLY: No.

It’s a definitive “no.” A “no” that tells me that he understands that his father’s silence on the subject fills more volumes on the atrocity of war than his words ever could. I nod and drop the subject.

ME: Leigh, is it?

LEIGH: Yeah.

ME: How’d the two of you meet?

LEIGH: We just bumped into each other, really.

BILLY: Her aunt is friends with my grandmother.

LEIGH: And she always throws these huge new year parties.

BILLY: Her aunt, not my grandmother.

LEIGH: She invites everyone she knows and tells them to invite everyone they know. She has the most amazing view of Time Square. And he was there and I was there . . .

BILLY: We just clicked. Wouldn’t you know? I meet this insanely cool girl three days before I’m supposed to ship off?

ME: That does suck.

LEIGH: “It could have been worse. We could have never met at all.”

BILLY: Oh, what is that from? I know that movie! I know it, it’s uh . . .

Billy’s snapping his fingers, trying to jog his memory.

ME: You two should go. Enjoy your time together. Go see Atlanta. Take her to the Coke museum.

LEIGH: Ooh!

ME: But first, before you go, this is for you.

I hand a Billy the album “America Town” by Five For Fighting.

BILLY: Oh, thanks.

ME: It’s actually from the wife. She said you should listen to track 3. She loves it and it always make her think of you.

BILLY: Thanks.

ME: And second, could you give me a sound bite?

BILLY: Sure, what do you want?

I pause, collect my thoughts, and clear my throat.

ME: So Billy. You’ve joined the army.

BILLY: I have.

ME: Why?

BILLY: In a word, “freedom.” Everyone deserves the right to live freely. Whether you’re a Christian or a Jew or an Atheist, you have the right to live as you deem. And when someone takes that right away from you, that’s wrong. It’s wrong, plain and simple. And a lot of people say they believe in what’s right and what’s wrong, but most people seem to believe in what’s convenient. They say they want what’s right, but what they want is what’s convenient. And there are some amazing men and women fighting overseas right now – not because it’s convenient – because it’s right. And with my unique talent, with my unique ability – heck, I’ll say it. With my ability to fly . . .

Leigh giggles.

BILLY: I think I can save some lives. And if by contributing my fair share, I can make this war that much shorter, then who am I to sit at home and watch it on the news?

ME: Good luck, Billy.

BILLY: I don’t believe in luck, but I appreciate it. C’mon girl.

Billy hoists Leigh onto his back, who clamps on, gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then waves “good-bye.” They’re off like a shot. Billy has to push off a little harder to get airborne with her on his back, but once they’re in the sky, they’re weightless. They don't disappear over the horizon, but behind the Omni Hotel. I leave the rooftop and the recorders and the cameras, one by one, click off.

1/02/02

TC

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Butterflies (Billy goes public)

September 25, 2001

Rooftop of the CNN Center

Atlanta, Georgia

The cameras and the recorders click on. I’m standing on the middle of the rooftop. Brian and Nick, my cameramen, are setting up. I’m speaking into a walkie-talkie.

ME: Can you hear me? Michael! Can you hear me?

I turn to my cameramen.

ME: Do we have a boom mic or a handheld?

BRIAN: I’ve got a lapel.

My walkie-talkie squawks.

MICHAEL: Roger that.

ME: You can hear me?

MICHAEL: Loud and clear.

ME: Can you hear me on the rooftop mics?

MICHAEL: Like you’re standing next to me.

ME: Excellent! Tell Richard we’re ready as soon as . . .

BILLY: Look out below!

Everyone looks up. There’s a muffled chorus of surprise from Nick and Brian and Billy lands with a profound THUD.

BRIAN: Holy crap!

NICK: He . . . he . . . he . . .

BILLY: Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya’.

BRIAN: Holy crap!

ME: Billy!

BILLY: Hey, Tim.

MICHAEL: Five minutes, Tim.

BILLY: Five minutes? We’re doing this in five minutes?

ME: Yeah, you’re cutting it a little short.

BILLY: Oh man . . .

Billy starts exhaling long, deep breaths. He’s shaking his hands from his wrists.

ME: You okay?

BILLY: How many people watch CNN? Everybody?

ME: It’s going to be okay. It’s just you, me, Brian, and Nick.

BILLY: And the bossy walkie-talkie.

There’s a soft CLICK as I turn the walkie-talkie off.

ME: Now it’s just us. Here’s how it’s going to go. I’m wearing an ear piece. They’re going to cue me when it’s time to start the interview. I’m going to introduce you. And then you’re going to fly from over there and you’re going to land right here beside me. Make it look nice. Graceful, like an air-ballet. Land like Superman. This is the first time the world’s going to see you. And I want them to see you. I want them to see you fly, I want them to see you land, and I want them to see you smile.

BILLY: Okay.

ME: And then it’s just going to be me and you. We’re going to talk.

BILLY: Okay . . .

ME: Be relaxed. Be yourself. If you want to be funny, be funny.

BILLY: What are we going to talk about?

ME: Same things we talked about on Sunday. Who are you? What do you want to do? People saw you on September 11th. What were you doing? What have you been doing since then?

BILLY: I did some work at a soup kitchen in . . .

ME: Save it for when we’re on air.

BILLY: ‘Kay. Where are your sound people? Aren’t there supposed to be sound people?

ME: After Michael – he’s the man with his foot on my neck – saw the security footage of you landing here and flying off, he installed microphones and motion sensors all across the rooftop. He wants us to conduct all our future interviews right up here. As soon as you land, the mics and the cameras will kick on.

BILLY: Really.

ME: Yep.

BILLY: Sneaky, sneaky.

ME: So anytime you’re on this rooftop, everything you say and/or do will be recorded. That’s why you don’t see any mics – okay, that’s the two minute warning. Why don’t you zip over to that building. I’ll wave you over.

BILLY: Okay . . .

ME: Hey. It’s just me and you. There’s no-one else. It’s just me and you talking.

BILLY: ‘Kay.

Billy flies off. I tighten my tie and check my cuffs. The voice in my ear piece counts down and I hear the in-studio transition. Brian and Nick scuttle closer to me. They’re swaying under the weight of the handheld cameras. I smile big.

ME: Thanks John. Tim Craine here, on the roof of the CNN Center. I’ve left the comfy confines of our studio to introduce you to one extraordinary young man . . .

The rest can be seen in the CNN archives, on YouTube, or any of the dozens of documentaries that have been made about the boy.

9/25/01 – Billy goes public

TC

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Superman's Challenge

November 7, 2001

Rooftop of the CNN Center

Atlanta, Georgia

The cameras and the recorders kick on when I walk out onto the roof. I pace for three minutes. Then I sit. I sit for five minutes. I begin pacing again. I’ve paced for another four minutes when Billy lands.

ME: You’re late.

BILLY: Punctuality is a thing of the past.

ME: What?

BILLY: There was a time when I was punctual. But that time has come and gone.

ME: Glad to see fame hasn’t gone to your head. Glad to see you’re not making unreasonable demands of your fellow man.

BILLY: Fame shmame! I’m a comic book!

Billy pulls a comic book out of his sweatshirt and tosses it to me.

ME: Oh yeah . . .

BILLY: It came out today.

A week after Billy’s first live interview, DC Comics approached him about doing a single issue team-up of him and Superman. Billy was a little disappointed when they said the story wouldn’t be part of the DC canon, but how could he turn them down? In the story, Brainiac attacks Metropolis. While Superman slugs it out with the alien robot, Billy is flying around the city, rescuing people from fires and the like.

BILLY: So cool.

ME: How’s it feel to be fictitious?

BILLY: So cool.

I laugh.

BILLY: But turn to page 24.

I do so. It’s the final interaction between Superman and Billy before they fly off in separate directions. They’re standing on a rooftop. Billy looks a little glum. Superman has his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than you think you are,” says Superman.

BILLY: What do you think he means by that? “You’re stronger than you think you are.” What does that mean?

ME: I think it’s pretty obvious. He’s saying you’re physically stronger than you think you are and you’re spiritually stronger than you give yourself credit for.

BILLY: “Spiritually?”

ME: Yeah. Who you are on the inside. Your heart. Your will. Your moral fiber.

BILLY: Hrm.

ME: What? You don’t believe it?

BILLY: Obviously not, if I’m stronger than I think I am.

ME: Touché.

BILLY: I’m just wondering why he would say that to me.

ME: I think you’re supposed to be a stand-in for America – or maybe all of humanity.

BILLY: Oh. So not me-me. Metaphor me.

ME: I think you’re reading too much into this. I think that statement, “you’re stronger than you think you are,” is a good, strong message. It’s what you believe and what you stand for – and if I know my Superman mythos like I think I do, it’s that statement that separates him from the other superheroes. He fights for us because he believes in us – even when we don’t.

BILLY: So you don’t think it’s directed to me personally.

ME: You might need to hear that message, and I think you’re welcome to take it to heart, but no, I don’t think . . . Geoff Johns . . . had you in mind when he wrote that bit of dialogue.

BILLY: But it’s said to me.

ME: Billy? It’s a comic book. Let it go.

11/07/01

TC

Monday, July 20, 2009

Origin Story

September 23, 2001

Rooftop of the CNN Center

Atlanta, Georgia

I’m standing on the rooftop of the CNN Center. It’s a sunny day, despite the roaming cloud mountains that splotch the city with shade. It’s not a particularly warm day, and standing on the roof of the CNN building, I’m chilled by the sharp wind. I play with my recorder, hitting “record,” “stop,” record, “stop,” so that as I listen to back to it, it comes through my headphones like strange Morse code. I’ve just hit “record” when there’s the distinct sound of tennis shoes landing just behind me, as if someone just jumped down beside me.

VOICE: Hey.

I turn around to see, of course, Billy. He’s eighteen years old. His shaggy blond hair is windswept. He’s wearing worn blue jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. The sweatshirt has a white thistle printed on it. He takes off his sunglasses with a smile.

ME: Billy Hughes?

Billy laughs.

BILLY: Were you expecting someone else?

ME: No . . . I just . . . I was still somehow expecting you not to show up. Sorry. Tim Craine.

BILLY: Oh, I know. I’m a big fan of yours.

ME: So you’re the one.

BILLY: What are you talking about? Everybody loves you!

ME: If only we could get them to watch the show.

BILLY: You not doing so good?

ME: It seems people are okay with politically themed humor, just not on CNN.

BILLY: People want “the news” on CNN, not someone making fun of it. I can see that.

ME: But enough about me . . .

BILLY: Sure.

ME: We’re here because you . . . well, because you.

BILLY: Heh. Yeah.

There’s an awkward pause. I’m waiting for him to say something, but he seems to want me to take the lead.

ME: You called this meeting.

BILLY: Yeah.

ME: Why?

BILLY: Um . . . I want to help.

ME: Okay?

BILLY: We got attacked by terrorists. And everybody’s pitching in to, you know, do their part and whatever and I’d like do the same. Except, you know, I can fly.

ME: Yeah . . . about that. I’m going to need you to prove that before we go any further.

BILLY: Sure.

He pushes off the rooftop like a swimmer pushes off the side of the pool. There’s no sound to it. He just kicks off and he’s in the air – floating there, three feet off the ground. He laughs at me and then lands. I giggle like a school boy.

ME: What’s that like?

BILLY: Being able to fly?

ME: Yeah.

BILLY: Did you ever see the Superman movie? With Christopher Reeve?

ME: Yeah.

BILLY: Do you remember the music from that movie? The main theme?

ME: Yeah.

BILLY: It’s just like that. It feels like that song sounds.

ME: Wow . . .

BILLY: Bummmmm, bum-bum-bum-bummmmm-BUM, BUM, BUMMM! Bum-bum-bum-bummmmm-BUM, BUM, BUMMM!!

I laugh.

BILLY: I actually listen to a lot of John Williams while I fly: Superman, Star Wars, Jurassic Park . . .oh, and Alan Silvestri. Ya’ gotta love Back to the Future.

I laugh again – or am I still laughing from his rendition of the Superman theme? Listening to it, I can’t tell and since it’s been eight years, I can’t remember.

ME: What, you make yourself a mixed tape of all your favorite movie themes?

BILLY: Mixed CD, actually, but yeah. Big soundtrack dork. But I’m sure that’s not the most interesting thing about me.

ME: Right. I’m sorry. There’s just . . . There’s no precedent for this. I don’t even know where to begin.

BILLY: Maybe that’s why your show’s failing.

ME: Okay, tough guy. How long have you been able to fly?

BILLY: All my life, I guess. I think. I don’t know. I “flew” for the first time when I was six.

ME: Tell me about it.

BILLY: Our driveway was on this really steep hill. And my brother and his friends used to ride their bikes and the skateboards down this hill and jump off this ramp they had built . . .

ME: Hey. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to tell you I’m – yeah – I’m recording this.

BILLY: Oh. Good. Cool.

ME: Sorry. Go on.

BILLY: Evan (my brother) and his friends are, like, six or seven years older than me. Evan’s six years older than me, but I’m not sure about his friends – but that’s besides the point. They’re doing all these cool jumps and flips and whatevers off this ramp. And you know, me being the little brother, I wanna show them I can be as cool as them and so I grab Evan’s bike and start down the hill. I’m so short and my brother’s bike’s so big, I can’t actually sit on the seat – well, I can sit on the seat, but if I do, I can’t reach the peddles. So I’m standing on the peddles, the seat digging into my back, and I’m flying down the hill. Evan sees me and SCREAMS. But I don’t care. I’m going to make the jump and stick the landing. Then, all of a sudden, I see the ramp. And I have this vision. I realize that I’m not going to go off this ramp. I am going to go through this ramp. I’m going to decimate it. I’m going to go through it like Wile E Coyote. I’m going too fast. I’m going to crash into the ramp and kill myself. I panic. I want to jump off, but it’s too late. The bike hits the ramp and then . . .

Billy shakes his head. I don’t know how many times he’s told this story, but it doesn’t seem to have gotten old yet. It still amazes him.

BILLY: It felt like something or someone much, much bigger than me grabbed me by the chest – just palmed me, you know? Grabbed me by the chest, pulled me off the bike, flipped me around, and landed me back on the driveway, facing Evan and his friends. As I landed, I could hear the bike crashing behind me. Evan just stared at me. “How did you do that?!” “Do what?” “That-that thing you just did! You jumped off, flipped and twisted around in the air and then . . .”

Billy shakes his head again.

BILLY: We decided it was my guardian angel. ‘Cos there was no way I did that on my own.

ME: When did you realize you had flown?

BILLY: I’m still not convinced it wasn’t my guardian angel.

ME: But you can fly.

BILLY: Yeah, but I don’t have any idea how. Who am I to say that my flight isn’t just my guardian angel picking me up by my armpits and wingin’ me wherever I want to go? . . . Except I always end up where I want to go. I’m not going places against my will.

ME: So you’re not like an alien . . .

BILLY: Powered by the earth’s yellow sun? No. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be my Lois Lane.

ME: And you weren’t created in a test tube or escape from Area 51 . . .

BILLY: I look just like my dad, which sucks considering his hair line.

ME: So you’ve been able to fly since you were six. How old are you now?

BILLY: Eighteen.

ME: Why now?

BILLY: Why now what?

ME: Why wait twelve years to reveal yourself?

BILLY: Well part of it was, like you said, I didn’t realize I had flown the first time I flew. It took me a while to figure out I could do that whenever I wanted. It took me even longer to control it. And I’m still working on it. You don’t sign up for the Olympics without having run a few laps. Besides, have you ever watched a sci-fi movie or read a comic book? If there’s even a shred of truth in them, as soon as I go public, the government’s going to show up and dissect me.

ME: So then, I ask again, why now?

BILLY: People are scared. They need something to believe in. They need hope. And I think I could be that. I don’t know how. But I’m here. And I’m willing. Tell that to everybody. I’m here and I’m here to help. I’m not super strong. I don’t have super hearing or anything like that. All I can do is fly and whatever else it is normal people can do. So . . . yeah.

ME: Well . . . that’s certainly commendable.

BILLY: Hey, I’m just doing what I can. Just like anybody else. How do I get a hold of you?

ME: What?

BILLY: I’m assuming there’s going to be a lot of questions after you finally convince your editor or boss or whoever to let you air this. We’re going to talk again. I wasn’t joking about you being my Lois Lane. Here, let’s do this. What’s your cell number?

I tell him.

BILLY: ‘Kay. I’m going to call you . . .

My cell phone rings.

BILLY: There. Now you have my number.

ME: Thanks. One more question before you go.

BILLY: Sure.

ME: What were you doing in New York the day of the attack?

BILLY: I was visiting my grandma in Hackettstown, New Jersey. I flew up as soon as I could to see if I could help. By the time I got there . . . Well, I did what I could.

ME: What do you mean?

BILLY: I . . .

There’s a very long pause. He’s looking out past me, over the city. He has to clear his throat before continuing.

BILLY: I jumped down there and joined in with the rest of the volunteers. There were some guys from Philadelphia passing out water bottles to the cops and firefighters. I just . . . did what I could. But people didn't see that. They just saw the kid flying around Ground Zero.

ME: Well, thank-you, Billy. I’m going to go downstairs now and get called a lunatic by my boss.

BILLY: Good luck with that.

I hit “stop.” The recording ends.

9/23/01 – our first meeting.

TC

Friday, July 17, 2009

Context

As the sun set on September 11th, 2001, Billy Hughes was seen flying over the skyline of New York City. He came to a stop over Ground Zero, where he hovered for almost a minute before disappearing. Of course, no-one knew who he was at the time. No-one even got a good look at him to be able to describe him. On any other day, that might have been enough to get him a mention before the commercial break. But not today. Not in the debris of September 11th. Most people who saw him thought their eyes were playing tricks on them. But enough people did see him to make him a fairly popular urban legend.

Right now CNN is playing a retrospective documentary on "the life and times of Billy Hughes." Anderson Cooper is saying that on September 11th, the Internet was flooded with reports and sightings of "a flying boy." I'm sure that's how it seems. I'm sure that's how people remember it. But it took two weeks for the Internet to be "flooded" with Billy Hughes stories.

It was on September 20th that Billy contacted me for the first time. It was via e-mail. I had just celebrated my one year anniversary at CNN. My show, Tough Talk with Tim Craine, was struggling to find its audience. CNN had hoped that I would carry over my Comedy Central numbers, but it just wasn't happening. So when I got the e-mail from the guy identifying himself as "Billy, the kid who can fly," I thought it was a joke.

Its random absurdity made me laugh. But its sincerity disturbed me. "It has to be a joke," I thought. But the more I reread it, the more I realized that if it was a joke, it wasn't a funny one. It was just someone claiming they could fly and who was hoping we could arrange a meeting between the two of us. None of my catchphrases were quoted. None of my blunders were brought up.

I googled the name "Billy Hughes" and found a whole lot of nothing. When I googled "flying boy New York City," however, I found myself staring down a list of every conspiracy theorist's website.

Some thought he, an angry god, was responsible for the attack. Some weren't sure about how responsible he was, but were sure he was involved somehow. Probably a third of them theorized some version of the government choosing this time to unleash their long-developed "super soldier." The more religious thought he was angel -- and of those, some said the Angel of Death and some said he was someone's guardian angel. I kept expecting to read the word "alien" or "visitor from another planet," but never did. Conspiracy theorists have come a long way since The X-Files.

None of them had pictures or video of him. He was being whispered about, but even those that were whispering about him seemed to be doing it with a "this can't be true" scowl.

It took me another 24 hours to work up the courage to respond. If it was a joke, I'd play along and be a good sport. If it wasn't a joke, and I refused to meet with this Billy, then he would seek someone else out and find someone who would take him seriously. And together they would make history.

And if there was one thing I wanted to do before I died, it was read my name in a history book.

-Tim Craine

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

rest in peace, Billy

These are the moments the world remembers.

The face that launched a thousand ships. The shot heard 'round the world. Where were you when JFK was killed? Where were you when the towers fell? Where were you when you heard the news of the death of Billy Hughes?

I was with friends. We were in the lobby our favorite Italian restaurant. It’s a little place that most locals don’t even know about. I was sipping on a merlot when the wife texted me: BILLY’S DEAD.

I didn’t rush home. I didn’t make any phone calls. I went about my life as if I had never met him – as if I hadn’t had hundreds of thousands of recorded conversations with him. We talked about him over dinner, of course. But only in the way one talks about any other celebrity who’s death gives their life or their product one last gasp of air before disappearing into obscurity.

It’s no secret that Billy and I had a falling out. The exact details of the falling out have been confused, misconstrued, sensationalized, and usually completely fictionalized. I’ve never spoken of it – not publically at any rate. Perhaps now it’s time to come clean. Perhaps to lay Billy to rest, I need to make my peace with him.

He went from obscurity to national icon to world-famous superstar. He gave us hope when we had none – something a lot of people seem to want to forget. While one can still find a handful of fan sites, Billy Hughes is a cautionary tale – though he was once considered a role model. He was young, full of life, and full of ideas – and we loved him.

And he loved us.

He loved us until we turned on him. We betrayed him. I betrayed him.

But I knew him before all that. I knew him before anyone else did. I was the one he came to. He chose me. And I have thousands of hours of recorded conversations and interviews that I edited down into articles and front page stories.

I’m going to transcribe them now and post them here.

Unedited. Uncensored.

So that maybe you might come to know him as I did: Billy Hughes, the Boy Who Could Fly.

-Tim Craine