Fritz Stammberger, Was He A Coo Coo Austin Powers?

REVIEW:

Fritz Stammberger found the perfect wife in Janice Pennington: pretty, not overly smart, unquestioning, and willing to marry a foreigner about whom she knew very little after a courtship of mere weeks...The perfect wife for a spy. Even before Pennington suspected her husband of a secret life there was plenty suspect about Stammberger. The guy liked to go off and climb big mountains solo, san oxygen, and when he couldn't get a climbing permit he'd enter sensitive, dangerous areas of the world illegally, hiking in through rough, unpatrolled country to bag peaks.


This alone would (statistics prove) have guaranteed him a life span shorter than the one he actually lived as a captured spy. Pennington's story is poorly written (she's s spokesmodel, what do you expect?) and she doesn't get it that whatever her husband was up to, whether he was a spy or not it was illegal and he WAS NOT a US citizen--being married to one does not count when it comes to risky rescue and investigations.

She barely consults her husband's country for help, preferring to spend years (during which Stammberger was apparently still alive) chasing after US intelligence officers who--obviously--couldn't and weren't required to hand over any information about a German national's activities in dicey area of the world.

What is surprising is that Pennington gets any resolution at all--really. She reminds me of Gennifer Flowers--tenacious, if a little dim. A weird story that would be much more palatable if Pennington had gotten a ghost author to help her with her 8th grade prose.

he made the first descent of the North Face of Mount Blanc in France

Ghost, that's above yer pay grade. It was certainly not even possible for Fritz given his citizenship status.

Sorry hamie but that photo makes it look like the fruit went through ya awful dang fast

Ironically, the very issue that had originally raised Putnam's ire against Wick and myself was our opposition to his plan for the club to certify and regulate mountain guides. I believe that the ethos of mountaineering was basically incompatible with firm regulations.

However, during the summer of 1978 a Canadian climber reported that a partially mummified, unclothed body had been found on the upper slopes of the mountain but could not determine the age, size, or length of time since death, and did not bring a part down for more complete identification.... The article states that during five days on the mountain, [one mountaineer] *found a pair of sunglasses, and an ice ax and a map*, which he believed might have belonged to Stammberger, in a crevasse.

Fritz was my sponsor When I was a student ski racer in Aspen. I lived with him while I was attending Aspen High School. Many wonderful memories. He was a great friend, mentor and role model. He stayed with our family the night before he flew out of Denver on his last fateful trip. He forgot his passport so we had to put it on the next plane to New York. I remember asking him where was he going. *He would only say it was top secret*. Three weeks after Fritz was reported missing, Bill Dunaway, the publisher/owner of the Aspen Times, organized a volunteer search team to try to find Fritz. I believe they were able to trace him and found the last hut he stayed in. They found tracks in the snow but they disappeared. I think of Fritz often, a friend and remarkable man!

When I was 10, I became good friends with one of my father’s ski instructors; Fritz Stammberger. The man was 6′-4″ and had been on the first successful expedition to climb the Himalayas without oxygen.

Running the press at age 10
He was a master printer from Germany and gave me one of my fist jobs running the Heidelberg press in his shop in the back of the Aspen Times. Nowadays it would probably be criminal on some level to put a child to work on such a dangerous machine, but that was a different era and I loved my job. It suited my character and supported my ego.
I was precocious. Fritz would challenge me but always rein me back in. He would say, “You’re not a man until you’ve climbed Mount Everest” or, “You’re not a man until you’ve seen your wife have a baby.”
It would drive my mother crazy when Fritz and I would show up at her mountain restaurant on a snowy day with no gloves and open parkas. “Real men don’t ski with gloves.” Caught up in the spirit I would say something cocky and Fritz would respond with, “What does the world hate?” He’s look me in the eye and then answer for me. “Everyone hates a smart-ass.” Then, it was only moments before we would continue our banter.
I met this gorgeous Canadian model in Dad’s ski school and introduced her to Fritz. They were soon married and pregnant. *They named their son after me*. I was privy to Diane stark naked with her beautiful huge belly the morning Fritz rushed her off to the hospital to give birth.
When I had arrived at their apartment that morning the story of the day (there always was one!) was how their wiener dog, Lumpy, had drawn blood when he jumped up and bit Fritz in the wiener in the shower.
There was nothing weird about my visits to Fritz and Diane’s. As I said, it was a different era. People were straight-forward, practical, respectful and responsible. There was no question of what was appropriate as propriety was an unspoken law that everyone seemed to understand implicitly. Naked pregnant bellies and wiener dogs were just part of life. These were the days when, if you slipped on ice in a ski resort the response was, “Weren’t you paying attention?” not, “Who are you going to sue?”

Fritz Stammberger
Fritz and Diane moved into the house across the alley from our house. There was no question that any 11-year old kid who could run a Heidelberg press could easily be trusted to take care of a few month old infant, metal safety pins and all. Besides, if there was any problem, my parents were just across the alley and the town itself was only a few blocks long. Fritz and Diane wouldn’t be far.
As Anton grew older I was a favorite babysitter. Fritz would always say, “You should be a psychiatrist.” This was his commentary on my diplomacy and the ease with which I could affect the trusting responses of children and adults alike. I would swell with pride and make some comment. “What does everybody hate?” Fritz would say.
But being a smart-ass was an accusation that would continue to follow me throughout my life.
Self-confidence was something I had learned from Fritz and my hard-working but life-loving parents. It amplified the voice of my muse. It led me to take unreasonable chances filled with faith and confidence that the voice of the universe wouldn’t lie to me. It was the voice that led me to so many great successes in my life and that helped me make lemonade, as they say, when it seemed I’d been dealt a lemon.
Self-confidence is not arrogance, though this would often be the accusation from friends, family or companions who felt the ease and serendipity in my life was somehow unjust as they struggled along.
Truth be told, I was struggling daily in my own ways and it didn’t take many missteps to see that the voice of the universe was my best and most reliable guide and friend.
Recently I was at a party at a blacksmith’s studio and ran into a friend I hadn’t seen or heard from in over 40 years. After a few minutes of enthusiastic recollections, I was genuinely surprised when he commented, “I was always amazed by your focus and determination to go after what you wanted.”
No. I wasn’t being a smart-ass. I was simply over-achieving in response to my feeling of never measuring up or being enough.
I suppose I could thank my over-achieving Mom for this, with many of the same feelings herself, but it wasn’t until I was in my mid-thirties in Hollywood when my close friend, Ray Underwood, would ask me a question that would change my life.
“You are so brilliant and talented. Why are you so full of self-sabotage?”
It was the first time I had heard the term. It wasn’t the last time I would reflect on those words. I would hear it another way some 20 years later. “Why would you put your best effort into running a marathon and then quit just short of the finish line?”
I had some work to do.