After amputating his own leg to save his life, Donald Wyman has returned to his job
"I'm excited," said Donald Wyman as he climbed aboard his Cat D-10 bulldozer one chilly morning last October at 6:30. "I've been laying around too much. I've been sleeping till 8, 9 o'clock." It was Wyman's first day back on the job after an accident that made national headlines. On July 20, Wyman, who was felling trees to build a house for his family, was pinned to the ground when a large oak fell on his left leg. Fearing he would bleed to death, he amputated the partially severed limb with a three-inch pocket-knife and, incredibly, managed to drive his pickup for help.
Back at Original Fuels Inc., a Punxsutawney, Pa., coal mining company, owner David Osikowicz observed, "You know, a lot of guys would have used an injury like that to stop working and to spend the rest of their days on disability. But not Don. You can't keep him away. The guy loves it out here. " Wyman, who now wears an artificial limb, confirmed this impression at lunchtime: "I've been having so much fun that I didn't even stop to take my breaks."
During his recuperation, Wyman, who lives in a mobile home in New Bethlehem, Pa., with his wife, Janet, 36, and son Brian, 17, seldom lost heart. "I had one bad afternoon," he says. "I remembered how I used to race around with my boy in the backyard." But more often, the upbeat 38-year-old was appearing on talk shows or offering encouragement to fellow amputees. Janet says her husband got dozens of letters that began with the phrase "I thought I had problems until I read your story." For local residents, Wyman's tale has taken on a symbolic meaning. Says Jane Cunningham, a local hotel manager: "There's a 'won't quit' spirit in this town that's just unbelievable. And Don Wyman has it."
A WALTON GOES IT ALONE
Eric Scott carries on after his wife's tragic death from leukemia
It has been a bittersweet year for Eric Scott, who played Ben on The Waltons (1972-81) and joined the cast last month on A Walton Thanksgiving Reunion. On Nov. 3, Scott, 35, celebrated his daughter Ashley's first birthday. Two days later, he mourned the anniversary of his wife Theresa's death. Ashley was delivered by cesarean section on Nov. 3, 1992, one month premature. On Nov. 5, Theresa, aged 33, died of a rare form of leukemia, never having seen her baby.
Afterward, Scott, now a marketing executive in Los Angeles, fought dual demons: tremendous anguish and tremendous responsibility. "There were days when I would hold the baby and cry," he says. "But I knew I had to spare Ashley my grief." After staying six weeks with Theresa's parents, Bettye and Chuck Fargo, in Thousand Oaks, Calif., Scott took Ashley back to the nearby Moorpark home where he and Theresa had decorated a nursery. (A live-in nanny helps out.)
Now an adept father, Scott reflects, "Some men bury problems very deeply. But I had to take care of Ashley. I had to confront reality." Still, he says, his sorrow will never disappear: "It's not like there is an end to this. It will always be a part of my life."
THE TAXI SAMARITAN
Leroy Montgomery, a Chicago cabbie, saved a jogger's life and made a lifelong friend
One evening last winter, Leroy Montgomery, 39, saw a woman collapse in front of his Chicago taxi. Carole Pooler had been stabbed and had her neck slashed by muggers during her nightly jog. Montgomery lifted her into his cab and rushed her to Northwestern Memorial Hospital. "I would have died had Leroy not taken the action he took," says Pooler, 52, who, despite a punctured lung, recovered and is now jogging again. (Two teens were arrested; a trial date has not been set.)
The incident was not Montgomery's first brush with violence. In 1991 his son Derrick, 17, was killed by a group of teens. Saving Pooler's life, he says, "helped me regain my confidence." Now he and Pooler, a divorced mother of two who works at a restaurant supply company, have become good friends. Says Montgomery: "It's like we're connected."
DAD'S DIES
Ken Lakeberg, father of Siamese twins, traveled an errant path
The saga of Ken Lakeberg, 27, the father of the Siamese twins who were separated in a risky and costly operation last August (during which one twin, Amy, died), gained as much media attention as did his unusual offspring. After Amy's funeral, the unemployed welder admitted that he had appropriated some $8,000 in donations for the twins' medical expenses to buy a car, costly meals and even drugs. At the time, Lakeberg was also on probation, having stabbed a cousin during an argument at Christmas, 1992. Last October he was sentenced to a year in prison for violating his parole when he failed a random drug test. Lakeberg didn't show up for the hearing in the matter because, as he later told the judge, he was "too drunk and stoned." But he eventually turned himself in.
Surviving twin Angela, whose heart is malformed, is in serious but stable condition at Philadelphia's Children's Hospital. "We are pleased and hopeful that this family will be able to have Angela," said chief surgeon Dr. James A. O'Neill after the operation. "It is encouraging to have come this far." Fortunately, Ken didn't squander all the money set aside for the child. Two siblings of the twins' mother, Joey Lakeberg, 25, hold a $5,600 trust fund for Angela. Her estimated medical bill to date: $800,000.
DIFFERENT DRUMMERS
Brought closer by controversy, Marine colonel Fred Peck and his gay son Scott have learned to embrace each other's choices
When Marine Corps colonel Fred Peck appeared before the Senate Armed Services Committee last May to testify against the President's proposal to lift the ban on gays in the military, he employed a novel argument. The veteran of the Somalia mission announced that he had learned just days before that his own son Scott was gay. "I love him as much as I do any of my [three] sons. But he should not serve in the military," said Peck, believing that Scott might be assaulted because his fellow troops would fear and despise his homosexuality.
Despite, or perhaps because of, the glare of media attention that surrounded them, Fred, 45, and Scott, 25, have become closer at the same time that the political gulf between them has widened. "To have been faced with coming to grips with such a difficult situation—in such a private matter but in such a public way—was painful for me," says Colonel Peck. "But Scott and I are closer because of having gone through it all." Scott says he was "floored" by his father's acceptance of his homosexuality. "Things have never been easy between us. and we could have just walked our separate ways. Instead, we just tore down all the secrets, and we're getting to know each other more and more."
On the issue of military service, they are still at loggerheads. "In a military environment, you have to deal with the question of human sexuality a little bit differently," says Fred. Meantime, Scott says he feels "betrayed" by Clinton's "don't ask, don't tell" policy.
Currently living in Baltimore, Scott hosts a radio talk show called Ten Percent Radio, referring to the estimate that 10 percent of U.S. adults are gay and lesbian. He's also working on a book, Father Figure, of which he says, "I want to talk about love between fathers and sons—how it's lost and how it's re-created."
THAWED OUT
The blizzard-surviving Stolpas warm up to a hot TV deal
A can-do kind of guy, Jim Stolpa figured that despite a snowstorm last December, he and his family could make the 800-mile drive from their home in Paso Robles, Calif., to Pocatello, Idaho, to attend a funeral. But Stolpa, 22, his wife, Jennifer, 21, and their year-old son Clayton got snowed in on a remote Nevada back road. They then spent nine days stranded in the desolate area, surviving on snow and their wits. Eventually, with Jennifer and Clayton huddled in a cave for warmth, Jim was able to find help.
Baby Clayton was miraculously unharmed and has begun to walk—at first maybe better than his parents. Jim and Jennifer lost toes to frostbite but can now walk without limping. "I'm never depressed," says Jim. "But I miss my toes a bit." For Jennifer, the experience had emotional echoes. On a camping trip, she panicked driving through a lonely stretch of country. "It got so bad that I couldn't breathe," she says.
On disability leave from his Army satellite-equipment repair job, Jim made TV appearances with Jennifer, and they signed what's reported to be one of the most lucrative TV-movie deals ever: $500,000. Snowbound, starring Neil Patrick Harris and Kelli Williams, is set to air on Jan. 9 on CBS. The couple, who had been living with Jim's father and stepmother since their ordeal, now have their own apartment and intend to start college next year. But as to what or where they will study, for now they're a bit, er, lost.
HE'S ROLLING ALONG
Blinded in the Bosnian war, Sead Bekric recovers in California
The photos last April of Sead Bekric, the 15-year-old Muslim boy blinded in the conflict in Bosnia, became a symbol of that pitiless war. Soon he became a symbol of the power of mercy. When Tony Maglica, a Croatian-American millionaire flashlight manufacturer, and his wife, Claire, found out about the wounded boy, they were so moved that they arranged to have him rushed to L.A. for treatment within days of his injuries. They even brought over his younger brother Enver and his mother, Mulja. Though doctors couldn't restore Sead's sight, his condition has vastly improved, and he's adjusting well to his new life. Sead attends ninth grade at a school for the blind, where he has a girlfriend and is rapidly learning English. (Claire jokes that his vocabulary is big enough for him to argue with her.)
The Bekrics currently live in the Maglicas' Anaheim Hills, Calif., home, where Sead and Tony have become very close. Enver, 10, attends a local school, and Mulja is looking for work. In July, Tony brought over Sead's 18-year-old sister Fata. (Sead's brother Seanaid, 22, and father Salman, 42, remain in Bosnia.) While doctors hope Sead may someday be able to have an eye transplant, soon he'll rely on a seeing-eye dog. "I used to walk my dog," he told the Maglicas. "Now my dog will be walking me."
MORE FIRE NEXT TIME?
Among the 45 survivors of Waco, Sheila Martin and Catherine Matteson await the return of David Koresh
Eight months after the fire that killed 86 members of the Branch Davidian cult in Waco, Texas, ending a 51-day standoff between the religious sect and federal authorities, many survivors haven't budged in their devotion to Branch Davidian leader David Koresh.
Of the surviving cultists—21 children and 15 adults left the compound during the siege, which began Feb. 18, and nine other adults survived the April 19 fire—12 men and women are in jail awaiting trial in January for the deaths of four federal agents. Most of the 21 children, whose identities and whereabouts are being withheld, have been placed in the care of relatives.
But a number of cult members have remained in Waco, believing that their leader will return to them (according to their interpretation of biblical prophecy) 1,335 days after his death. "David was the most mature and brilliant person that I ever met," says Catherine Matteson, 77, who has become the Davidians' chief theologian. A widow who has two middle-aged, non-Davidian daughters, Matteson left the compound during the siege to deliver a tape of Koresh's apocalyptic preachings to authorities. (The tape was played on a local radio station; Koresh said he would surrender afterward but didn't.) Now staying at the seedy Brittney Hotel, Matteson says, "I could have been in there [the flaming compound] too, and I feel there is something I am supposed to do and I'd better get to it."
Although the tragedy might have led her in another direction, survivor Sheila Martin, 46, remains a believer. "The people inside [the compound] did not want to die," she says. Her husband, Douglas Wayne Martin, a Harvard Law School grad who was a close associate of Koresh's, perished in the fire, along with four of the couple's seven children. Sheila left the compound March 21 to care for her three youngest, Kimberly, 4, Daniel, 7, and Jamie, 11, who is blind and has cerebral palsy. Assisted by other Davidians, local charities and food stamps, Sheila, who also lived in the Brittney for a while, was able to rent a suburban house in Waco. There she devotes her time to Jamie and to Kimberly and Daniel, who have been returned from their paternal grandparents in New Jersey, where they lived for several months after the tragedy. Sheila believes that the whole family will someday be reunited. "God's going to work it out," she says. "You've gone through an experience, they've gone through an experience, and we'll talk about it."
SIGN OF THE TWINES
Meeting via a billboard ad, Richard Hindman and Kimberly Taylor tie the knot
When divorce Bill Machmer, 40, a research technician, and three other Houston lonely hearts rented a highway billboard last July in an effort to meet women (4 Middle Class White Males, 32-39, Seek Wives. Kids OK.), the response was so overwhelming that they needed reinforcements. Fourteen hundred women sent letters, and 14 bachelors were recruited to divvy them up. Seven now have steady girlfriends, and on Nov. 27, Richard Hindman, a divorced 34-year-old CPA and father of two, wed the first woman whose letter he answered: Kimberly Taylor, 33, a divorced secretary with one son.
After a monthlong correspondence, the couple met face-to-face on Donahue and were so smitten that they announced their engagement the following day. "I just met jerks my whole life," says Kimberly. "It was unnatural for me to be with someone as nice as Richard." Quipped a guest at their wedding: "If I had a can of shaving cream right now, I'd write on their car, Product of Quality Advertising."
Now more people are seeking altar-ed states. Machmer has helped another group of hopeful Houston bachelors put up a billboard, and women are getting into the advertising act as well: 6 Nurses Seek White Middle Class Husbands, Age 40-60, read a billboard last October next to Tucson's busy Speedway Boulevard.
SCORING POINTS PRIVATELY
The notorious Spur Posse boys continue to date—and talk
The exploits of the Spur Posse, the Lakewood, Calif., teenagers who devised a point system to keep track of their sexual conquests, dovetailed with the raging national debates over date rape and sexual consent. Since they gained attention last March, though, they have received a curiously mixed retribution. Kris Belman, 18, for instance, was charged with committing lewd and lascivious acts with a 13-year-old girl (he was 14 at the time); he was ordered to serve 100 hours of community service as part of an informal six-month probation. At the same time, however, he appeared on shows like Inside Edition and Jenny Jones, and his celebrity, oddly, improved his dating life. "A lot of girls called. Some from [nearby] Downey came down. I went out with them."
As of now, only two of the roughly 25 Spur Posse members have been brought up on sex-related charges, though others have been charged with assorted crimes, and investigations are continuing. High-profile L.A. lawyer Gloria Allred (who briefly represented the sex-abuse accuser of Michael Jackson) is the attorney for six girls who claim to be Posse victims. Says Allred: "In general, the system has not acted to protect young girls."
Posse founder Dana Belman, 20, Kris's older brother, said recently, "I have a girlfriend. I don't play that no more." Still, Kris claims the game has changed but isn't over. "Everybody keeps track of their points," he says, "but there is no competition anymore."
FREE AT LAST
Out of prison after 12 years, Jean Harris rebuilds her life
After spending a dozen years of a 15-year sentence incarcerated for the highly publicized shooting death of her former lover, Scarsdale Diet creator Dr. Herman Tarnower, Jean Harris, 70, was granted clemency by New York governor Mario Cuomo. On Jan. 22, just weeks into recovering from heart surgery, the former headmistress of the exclusive Madeira School was free on parole.
But Harris has not forgotten the lessons she learned behind bars. She has spent her first year of freedom writing articles and giving speeches about her work at the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, where she helped inmates learn to care for their children.
Harris makes her home in a Monroe, N.H., cabin, where she tends her flower and vegetable gardens and takes long walks with her golden retriever, Lainy, a present from supporter Joan Rivers. This past summer, Harris attended the weddings of both her sons, David, 43, a banker, and Jim, 40, owner of a property management firm. Says longtime Harris friend Alice Lacey: "It all means quite a lot to her. The transition to freedom has done her a world of good."
THE SCHOOS DONT FIT
The couple that abandoned their kids for a vacation give up the children for good
Last Christmas, in what came to be known as a real-life Home Alone, David and Sharon Schoo, a suburban Chicago couple, took a nine-day trip to Acapulco, leaving behind their two daughters, Nicole and Diana, then 9 and 4, with little more than a stock of TV dinners and strict instructions about bedtimes. A neighbor discovered the girls' plight, and when the feckless Schoos returned to O'Hare International Airport, they were greeted by law-enforcement officials who wanted to know more about their parenting philosophy.
Last April David, 46, and Sharon, 36, in an agreement with the Kane County state's attorney's office, pleaded guilty to one misdemeanor count of child neglect and were sentenced to 30 days house arrest, two years probation and 200 hours of community service. In July, having already begun to serve their sentence, and after the state had filed a petition to terminate their parental rights, they gave the girls up for adoption. Herbert Hill, one of the couple's former attorneys (who, along with another attorney, is suing them for unpaid services), says of the parents' attitude toward their children, "It seemed apparent that there was some degree of indifference." Harassed by drive-by hecklers, the Schoos have moved to nearby Geneva, 111., and are keeping a low profile. Nicole and Diana are reportedly in foster care. Marie Kuzma, the girls' maternal grandmother, says they'll be better off. "Maybe somebody else would give them more of a life," she says, "especially with the holidays coming up."
EXPENSIVE EDUCATION
School's out for harried lottery winner Les Robins, the Wisconsin teacher who learned that $111 million can't be ignored
At first glance, Leslie Robins's story would make a great Frank Capra movie. When this dedicated schoolteacher won the largest single-ticket lottery prize in U.S. history last July—$111 million in a multistate drawing—all he wanted to do was continue teaching English and coaching sports at Sabish Junior High in Fond du Lac, Wis. Robins, 30, who split the winnings with his fiancée, Colleen De Vries, 24, offered to donate his $35,000 salary to the school and asked the teachers to make a "wish list" of things the school needed.
But Capra doesn't make movies anymore, and heroes change their minds. Due to the pressure of juggling all the demands that his new wealth has brought and the need to plan his future, Robins has decided to take a leave of absence from his job. Many might wonder why he's still working anyway. Says Del Schultz, the principal of Sabish, "People try to lay a guilt trip on Les, but he enjoys teaching." Whatever he decides, it is unlikely that Robins will sign on at another school. "With so many teachers out of work," he says, "how could I justify taking a job elsewhere?" Maybe he's Frank Capra material after all.
SHE'S ACTIVE, BUT NO ACTIVIST
Sherry Annette Johnson quietly copes with the HIV she contracted from her dentist
"Just like anybody else, I have some bad days, but mostly good days," says Sherry Annette Johnson, 18, the sixth person known to have been infected with HIV by Florida dentist David Acer. The high school grad is in good health and watches herself. She sleeps well, takes AZT without side effects and hasn't developed any symptoms of AIDS. Johnson learned she was infected last January, after a Navy pre-enlistment physical. Several months later she learned that she got it from Acer, who also infected University of Florida graduate Kimberly Bergalis. Bergalis died at age 23 in 1991; Acer himself died of AIDS in 1990.
Sherry continues to live with her father and stepmother in Jensen Beach, north of Palm Beach. She works part-time at a Winn Dixie supermarket and plans to attend nearby Indian River Community College in the spring. She and her boyfriend, Willard Howard, 22, a boat mechanic, have been explicitly instructed in the dangers of having sex together. Sherry has appeared on several talk shows to lobby for mandatory testing of all at-risk Americans, including health workers, but she's not likely to become an activist on the order of Bergalis. "I get nervous," Sherry says of appearing on TV "I'm not used to it." Mainly, she wants to get on with her life.
LONG SHOT
Sales clerk Don Calhoun collects his million, barely
After Don Calhoun, 24, won a million dollars by sinking an improbable 79-foot basket during a time-out in an April 14 Chicago Bulls-Miami Heat game, he thought his life would go on as usual. Right, Don. For a while, this instant hero to every one-on-one player in the nation continued showing up for his $5-an-hour job at Reliable Office Superstore in Bloomington, Ill. But when the talk shows and public appearances (including a White House handshake with the President) began to clutter his schedule, Don realized it was time to push on. "My boss came to me and said I had all the opportunities to pursue my dreams and goals, so go ahead."
One of those goals is to play professional basketball, to which end the 6'2" Calhoun—who played a mere 11 games of junior college hoops at Triton College in River Grove, Ill.—accepted an offer to tour and play with the Harlem Globetrotters. (Well, it's a start.) Calhoun's hardwood experience posed a problem, though. American Hole 'n' One Insurance, the contest underwriter, balked at the deal. The rules disqualify anyone who played college basketball in the preceding six years (Don played in 1989), but Calhoun says that the waiver wasn't issued until after his shot. The sponsors of the promotional stunt—Lettuce Entertain You, Coca-Cola and the Chicago Bulls—have agreed to pick up the tab. Calhoun, meanwhile, is playing it modest. Though he bought a new car, he says, "I always said that if I ever became wealthy, I wouldn't live snotty."
COPING CLEVELAND
The widows of the Indians 'pitchers try to carry on as the team reels anew—and the manager's wife dreads spring training
Eight months after the Cleveland Indians lost relief pitchers Tim Crews and Steve Olin to a tragic boating accident in Florida last March, the unthinkable happened: A third Indians pitcher, Cliff Young, died in a car accident. For the team the deaths have been deeply disturbing; for the victims' families they have been devastating. Widows Laurie Crews, 33, and Patti Olin, 26, "have been a major, major support for each other," says Sharon Hargrove, wife of Indians manager Mike Hargrove. Athletic, horse-riding Laurie stays busy caring for daughter Tricia, 10, and sons Shawn, 5, and Travis, 3, and running the 45-acre ranch she and Tim built. Patti, who was about to move into a new home in Cleveland with her husband and daughter Alexa, 3, and year-old twins Garrett and Kaylee, has had an equally painful time. On the refrigerator door of the house they never shared, a poignant, handwritten note was left: "Welcome to our new home. I love you—Steve."
Although Patti has moved back to her hometown of Portland, Ore., she joined Laurie to reach out to Young's widow, Tamara, 24, who is raising two young sons, Clifford Jr., 6, and Cameron, 3. "For the 20 years we've been in the game, I've gotten excited about spring training," says Sharon Hargrove. "But when I think of it now, and think of going back down there, every time the words 'Winter Haven' [the Indians' Florida camp] or 'spring training' are said, my stomach just turns into a knot."
AILING ORCA
Animal groups give Free Willy's Keiko a helping hand
Sure, onscreen they can Free Willy, but what about Keiko, the real-life whale who played him in the movie? The 7,000-lb. orca, it turns out, has been living in squalid conditions in a Mexico City sea park, where he has developed a skin condition. Now, however, the Virginia-based Alliance of Marine Mammal Parks and Aquariums has arranged to upgrade Keiko's diet, habitat and medical care. Plans call for him eventually to be relocated to a new facility, provided that he improves. Some marine experts, though, are making efforts to have Keiko set free and reunited with other orcas at sea. Did somebody say sequel?
UNWISE SAMARITAN
Out of jail, Benny Milligan needs a job but no more mail
Their story could almost be a parable invented to support the Clinton Administration's health plan. In July of 1990, James McElveen, 33, was critically injured in a fall while hiking with his friend Benny Milligan, 32, in central Tennessee. Milligan worried that McElveen, who had no health insurance, would be turned away at a nearby hospital emergency room. So Milligan pretended that his insurance card belonged to his friend. Milligan, a technician at Martin Marietta in New Orleans, was covered by his employer. The deception was eventually uncovered by investigators, and the men were convicted of fraud. Milligan finished serving a nine-month prison term on Oct. 6., and McElveen has also been released. If Milligan overturns his conviction on appeal, his union has promised that he'll get his old job back, complete with back pay.
Milligan's altruism has cost him dearly: He and his wife, Tammy, who have three young daughters, are in debt, partly because they have been, along with McElveen, ordered to pay $41,107 in restitution to doctors and the hospital. The bill has been reduced to some $13,000, thanks to a TV-movie deal and donations from the public.
In the meantime, Milligan is bewildered by the flood of letters and telephone calls he has received from people all over the country seeking his advice about their own insurance problems. "All I can do is try to listen," he says. "And I tell them: Write your congressmen and senators and tell them that you want this [health care] bill passed."
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
