June 15, 2008 -- Virgil Ivan "Gus" Grissom.

Born in Indiana, Gus Grissom became permanently linked with the City of Brotherly Love upon nicknaming his Mercury Spacecraft the "Liberty Bell 7." As the second (2d) free man in space, Grissom placed dignity and honor, and his nation, before his own family name by refusing to publically combat whispered, and ultimately proven false, blame when his capsule sank in the Atlantic Ocean.

A Korean War hero and Air Force pilot, and a command pilot on the first Gemini flight, Gus made the ultimate sacrifice for his country on January 27, 1967 when he was suffocated in a fire aboard Apollo 1, along with fellow astronauts Ed White and Roger B. Chaffee.

In 2008, the Philadelphia Pena and Taurino Club unveiled its official Panelo Patch, which is based on Gus Grissom’s Mercury Mission patch for his July 1961 space flight. His capsule was nicknamed the "Liberty Bell 7," and it is a great honor to recall and celebrate his homage to the cradle of liberty.

Gus Grissom was a man when men were men, and walked the earth, and flew into space, all the while giving the word "liberty" the name it deserved.  Today, you can visit his gravesite and honor the legacy at the Arlington National Cemetary in Washington, DC.

January 9, 2008 -- Cheesesteaks in the Afternoon (and John Fulton, American Matador)

Fulton John Short was born in May 1933 to Italian immigrant parents living (go figure!) in a row house on Orkney Street, in what locals graciously refer to as "South Philly." Legend recounts how, at age 12 in 1941, the later named John Fulton (Spaniards could not possibly say "Short" without a lisp on a lisp on a lisp – don’t ask) walked to a local Philadelphia theater to see the still-epic, Blood and Sand. From the incomprehensible streets of Philadelphia, he determined to become a bona fide matador. It was not an idle threat, and he began making capote passes with a local (Spanish) barber’s cloth as his cape soon thereafter.

A champion highschool fencer (which probably helped), Fulton attended the famous Philadelphia Museum College of Art. Later, while attending art school in Mexico, he spent his weekends fighting bulls in border villages. In 1956, he moved to Seville, where he lived the rest of his life. From there, he became the greatest matador born in North America, a title he still holds. Nearly simultaneously, he became an often employed, if not renowned, artist.

John Marks, author of To the Bullfight, later wrote that Fulton "indulges...both his vocations simultaneously, and as simply, as if a boy from Philadelphia to be an aspiring matador, and for a matador to be a serious artist outside the plaza de toros, were the most natural things in the world."

Artist, matador, author, illustrator, wit, and socialite, but in the good sense. Friend of Hemingway and Michener. And Belmonte. And Bo Derek, which isn’t too shabby either. And, a stand-in for Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia, which places him at the cosmic crossroads of "All Things I Hold Dear."

Frankly, he could have gotten by half-baked on any of these fronts, and lived a nice, enjoyable life. But, as stated, John was born in South Philly, so as artfully described on johnfultonmatador.com -- "On July 18, 1963, John Fulton was graduated to matador de toros in the Real Maestranza ring of Sevilla, which is to bullfighting what La Scala is to opera, becoming the first North American to be promoted to the corrida’s highest professional rank in Spain."

I’ve been to the Real Maestranza. Just taking the tour gives you the goose bumps. For good measure, he dropped a Miura that sunny July afternoon.




Undoubtedly, he started as a novelty: a Yankee aspirant. John later fought – not as a side show, but for real – in Seville, Madrid, Cadiz, and even Pamplona, and confirmed his alternativa in Madrid in 1967. This is the equivalent of some kid from Zaragoza becoming an All Star Third Baseman for the Phillies. Well, actually...

His art is found in galleries, and all over the world. Among many famous benefactors, Fulton’s art was owned by the Baroness Ludmilla von Trapp. Often painted in real bull blood, and often addressing subjects de taurino, Fulton’s drawings of bulls abstractly portray the bull in action, in a disconcertingly iconic sense. He even designed the Schlitz Malt Liquor bull logo. Stay classy!

The Philadelphia Pena and Taurino Club celebrates the life of one of our own, John Fulton of Philadelphia.  From this life, certain conclusions are necessary.

First, you too can do anything you set your mind to.  Second, the best broken barriers are institutional.  Finally, true Renaissance men cross the bridge on their way down the Shore.

Peter