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for his creative genius; would have solved the personal bread and
butter question; would have taken aviation out of the sport or [[?]]
[[?]] and put it on a sound business basis. All these things
accomplished he would have achieved what after all was the inspiration
to accomplish all of this. Sam was an idealist at heart. Through
aviation, his means of contributing his bit to civilization and the
world, he hoped by the airplane as a beacon or a means to an end, to
sell to the world a tolerance, a finer quality of thought, a
quintessence of the fine values in life and thereby aid in making war
impossible. Sam and Buck Hattie and Clayt had, with all their other contemporaries, complexities and adjustments to make in a mentally, spiritually and financially chaotic world left so by the War adjustments difficult to make. The leveling of humanity could be achieved in a pleasant fashion though aviation which would be constructive not as the war had been destructive, and so the obligation to living would have been fulfilled a little more in proportion to the desires of those who invested. This, no doubt, is the universal creed of any man of capacity, but fulfilled by few.
 In March, 1926, Sam was down in bed with a second bad heart attack. The first heart attack had been in Buffalo before the War and during the nine long months Sam had lain paralyzed (except for his eyes) Clayt had been Sam's comforter. 
 Sam and Hattie were expecting a little Sam about August, and due to an appendix operation [[?]] performed during pregnancy Hattie had little strength. Clayt shouldered the business and made possible many comfort for all involved. Sam was removed to the Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton to be accessible to blood transfusions and all medical paraphernalia. In August Sam was thought to be grabbing hold of that "one-chance-in-a-thousand" and going to live.
  On the morning of September 11th Hattie with little Thelma, an eighteen year old girl who had been her companion during the none months, "took off" for a private hospital in Troy. At eleven o'clock beautiful little Janet Junkin, weighing nine pounds and three ounces, was born. Clayt's father was seriously ill at the Junkin home. Clayt had asked this as the [[?]][[?]] care for both dying [[?]] xxxxx