Sometime around 5 to 10 years ago, I was riding the train
home on a Sunday afternoon with a few of my friends. I usually have a good memory about these
things, but my recollection of that day is fuzzy. I don’t remember exactly what we were
discussing, but I think our conversation centered on my hometown of Langhorne. An elderly gentleman was sitting nearby as we
talked. As the train was nearing
Langhorne station, he was one of the people who got up to exit the train. He had overheard our conversation earlier and
knew what we were talking about, and he introduced himself by showing a tag on
his suitcase. The image on his tag was a
landmark in my area for several decades.
It was the old Constellation airplane that was mounted and propped up by
three large columns on top of a restaurant in Penndel, owned by a man named Jim
Flannery. When the plane stood, it was visible from the station we were
arriving at, although the view was partially obstructed. The man identified
himself as Flannery. I was speaking with none other than Jim Flannery. He ran that restaurant for years before he
bought the plane, which was then carefully disassembled and shipped north from
Dover, Delaware. It was then carefully reassembled
and fastened to the roof of the restaurant, and used as a cocktail lounge. A spiral staircase was constructed leading up
from the ground level to the airplane/cocktail lounge.
Growing up in Langhorne, that was a part of my childhood. An old airplane resting on top of a building
is not something you see every day, but in my case, it was. We passed by it every Sunday on our way to
church, and throughout elementary and middle school, my bus would drive past
it. It was there until the late 1990s,
when, after having gone through several post-Flannery ownerships, the
restaurant finally closed for good. The
property was sold, and the plane was disassembled and dismounted from the main
restaurant building, which was razed to make way for an Amoco station and
mini-market. I remember seeing the huge
dismantled relic lying on the ground, until it was finally taken away to a
museum.
But after I got past the initial surprise that I was speaking
with Jim Flannery, my curiosity led me to ask a question about the opening
ceremony for the airplane/cocktail lounge in 1968. It was publicized by sending a hot air
balloon off from the parking lot. But it
all went wrong right after takeoff when the wind sent the balloon into power
wires, electrocuting both riders and sending them falling to their deaths. Without thinking, I asked him about what went
wrong that day. He gave a quick
muttered response that I didn’t understand.
I then came to my senses and realized that was not a good question to
ask. I wish I would have thought of something
wiser and more pleasant to say, since this was no doubt a bad memory for him,
and presumably something he has had to answer to many times in the past.
I had mostly forgotten that chance meeting with Flannery
until recently, when I passed by the BP station that now sits on Flannery’s old
site. In a friendly gesture, the owners
of the station commemorated the landmark that once stood there by attaching a
replica to the top of their neon sign. I pass by this station often, and sometimes
fuel up there, but I didn’t think much of the miniature Connie. This time, however, I decided to do some
internet research on the restaurant and airplane. In doing so, I also came across Flannery’s
obituary. He passed away last June,
after living most of his life in Penndel, near his business, and the landmark
that will forever be associated with his name.
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