Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [91]
Eventually, Frank joined an outfit that cleaned up thirty-two FUAES – Formerly Utilized Atomic Energy Sites. ‘The big first hydrogen bomb left a great big hole in the ocean,’ he said. ‘Water filled it up right quick, but the hole was still there. All the debris from years of testing on Enewetak Atoll was dumped down that hole and covered over with concrete. I worked on that job for years. I was the garbage man.’
Both Frank and Jack were intensely interested in the outcome of the latest Strategic Arms Limitation Talks that were going on at the time. ‘I think there are some level-headed people that realise that we’ve got a gadget we cannot use,’ said Jack. ‘That’s what we need to realise.’
Even though I didn’t know much about the subject, it seemed kind of incongruous to have weapons that would wipe us all out if they were ever used.
‘You use it, you’re dead,’ said Jack. ‘That’s why there’s just no point in it.’
It was fascinating to meet these two men in Los Alamos, and they were an absolute delight. I had expected them to be totally atomic, all for the atom bomb, so I was very pleasantly surprised to discover that they weren’t. I had one last question: ‘When you were living here in the war, was there any sneaking out going on?’
‘It was easy enough to do,’ said Jack. ‘Our travel outside was monitored and restricted to visits to Santa Fe. However, I had a girlfriend in Phoenix, who I managed to meet at least once. They knew about it down there because the bomb went off and she wrote me a letter and said, “Aha, a little bigger than you thought, eh?” The censors read that and I didn’t have an answer.’
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The next day I rode to Albuquerque, a short hop down the pre-1937 Route 66 route from Sante Fe. Again, a lot of the buildings are low-rise adobe structures, but Albuquerque lacks Santa Fe’s charm. At first I thought it was a nothing kind of town, just a one-street joint with some dodgy stores, but then I visited the Rattlesnake Museum. A lot of good things were happening in the square outside the museum, and the place seemed to be buzzing, with live music and busy restaurants.
The museum itself is owned and run by Bob Myers, a self-confessed rattler fanatic. I’m not that fond of snakes myself, so I quite like the idea of one that warns you it’s there. That rattling noise, which sounds like a high-pitched footballer’s rattle, is a very succinct way of saying, ‘I’m scared! Don’t come any nearer. Get lost.’ And, of course, it’s never a good idea to go near scared animals. The old prospectors who roamed the Wild West and played guitar around camp fires at night used to keep rattlesnake tails inside their guitars. If a thief lifted the guitar, he’d hear the tikka-tikka-tikka of the tail, think there was a snake inside, and drop it.
Stacked to the rafters with tanks containing rattlesnakes, the museum is fascinating. Bob had a stick with which he prodded some of the snakes to make them rattle properly. There’s no other noise quite like it, and anyone would recognise it instantly. If you hear it, you should stop dead in your tracks, then slowly back up the way you came and get the hell out of there. As Bob told me, rattlesnakes are not aggressive and they’re much more scared of us than vice versa, but if they’re cornered and unable to escape to safety, they will invariably retaliate.
Many of the snakes were beautifully camouflaged and almost impossible to spot against the rocks and sand. I was very impressed. The canebrake rattlesnake reminded me of Tom Waits, the only person I’ve ever known to talk about them. Then there was the mottled rock rattlesnake, the black tailed rattler, a southwestern speckled rattlesnake and a panamint rattler, which was the most difficult to spot of all. Most of them gave me the willies.
Once, in an earlier TV show, a python was placed around my neck. She was very nice, and kept whispering in my ear. I told the keeper that