Roy Exum
Ed Ray, who spent his modest life driving a school bus in the sleepy central California town of Chowchilla, will be laid to rest tomorrow and at least 26 people at the funeral will never ever forget him. Oh, there is a small monument that already bears his name in front of the town hall but, as far as a busy world is concerned, 40 years behind the wheel of a orange bus in the same little farm town where you once grew up doesn't seem to count for much.
Believe it or not, the 26 special guests at Ed Ray's funeral -- each who still loved the quiet and humble man fiercely -- will vehemently disagree with such a sad reflection on today's society.
After all, they were students between the ages of 5 and 14 back in July of 1976 when Mr. Ray's bus was highjacked and none has ever forgotten how the kind, humble hero shepherded them during the most horrifying 24 hours of their lives.
Gosh, has it been 36 years since the entire nation was staggered by the news that a warped criminal trio had kidnapped a bus driver and 26 kids in the rural part of California? This was at a time when we were watching "Dirty Harry" movies and Hollywood was finding out that scary psycho creeps were looking for such schemes to result in lots of money. A letter from the fabled Zodiac killer back then in the San Francisco Chronicle even said, "School children make nice targets. I think I might wipe out a school bus one morning."
It was about 4:15 in the afternoon, the day before summer school would officially end, when Ed Ray turned the Dairyland United School District bus down a tree-lined Avenue 21 and, up ahead, saw a white van blocking the road. Thinking some poor guy had broken down, Ed opened the bus door to see if he could send help and instead saw a jumpy guy with a pistol who had a stocking pulled over his face.
Quickly, the gunman ordered Ed to the back of the bus as another thug jumped behind the bus steering wheel. They drove 12 miles to a drainage slough where another van was waiting and loaded the frightened kids -- and the only hope they had, Ed Ray -- into two smaller vans that had no windows.
Covering the abandoned bus with chopped branches and leaves, the kidnappers drove for about 10 hours, taking a confusing route to a rock quarry in Livermore, Calif., some 100 miles away that was owned by the wealthy father of one of the criminals. There they ordered Ed to remove his boots and pants and then -- at gunpoint -- forced the still-calm driver and all 26 children down a rickety ladder into a dark 8X16 back of an old moving van that had been buried by a bulldozer beforehand.
Inside were grimy mattresses, a little water and a battery-operated ventilation fan. The gunmen then moved a heavy sheet of steel over the opening, placed some 100-pound batteries on top of it, and went away to demand a $5 million ransom. Can you imagine? Some children were crying, some soiled their pants, there was nothing to eat, and everybody had never been as scared.
Ed Ray assured the children things would be okay. He promised and got the smallest to sleep. Then he and some of the older boys stacked up mattresses and began to pry away at a loose corner of the ceiling. Dirt was pouring through and Ed washed away the grime as the skinniest kid wormed through the hole. Scouting carefully, the child came back to whisper to Mr. Ray that nobody was on guard.
So Ed began to pass one child after another into the California night. When all were out of the tomb-like prison, they had no idea where they were. So with Mr. Ray holding the hands of the smallest kids, the grimy group -- sticking closely together -- started walking towards a lighted area. A couple of quarry workers -- shocked at the sight -- quickly called the cops and within minutes an army of police, FBI, ambulances and emergency vehicles arrived.
The town of Chowchilla soon screamed with joy as the good news flashed through the night. Within several hours, Ed Ray made sure every child originally on his bus was reunited with his or her parents before he finished quite a day.
The bus is now part of a museum. The children are all grown. And tomorrow each will remember Mr. Ray with the deepest affection. After all, every child has kept in close contact with him for 36 years, if you can believe that. Funny how stuff like that works out.
The three who committed the caper -- all in their young 20s at the time and all from wealthy, respected families in the San Francisco Bay area -- were trying to cover up a botched real-estate deal. When they tried to demand the $5 million ransom, all the phone lines to the police and FBI were gridlocked due to the desperate search for the missing children. Authorities were not amused and all three -- on this very day -- remain locked in prison for life.
A movie was made of the Chowchilla kidnapping and books were written but anytime anybody ever brought it up Ed downplayed his heroic role, saying simply that he loved the kids, the school district and Chowchilla. At age 91, he died a happy man and is survived by his wife of 70 years -- Odessa -- two sons, three grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.
Tomorrow his family will be joined by 26 very special guests as they bury their very favorite school bus driver.
royexum@aol.com