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Monthly Archives: August 2017

15 Aug

The Heart Remembers

I was off. Off on a trip to Dallas TX from Santa Ana, Orange Co. CA. for business and some pleasure, a Training Session. I had managed to skip this, no, AVOID it for some three years but they finally caught up with me. I had stalled for some time but the “unchecked box” in my records finally gave me away. When I was told I simply HAD to go to Dallas for this course, I looked for a time when it was going to be convenient for me. That way I could see my Daughter, her husband, and my two grandkids while I was “filling the square.”
As fate would have it they were holding a session during the last week of March, first week of April. Great, I would be there for my grandson Liam’s birthday, as well as miss the Audit/Inspection back at the center. There really was a God, and he seemed to like me. So, here I am, getting ready to board a Big Silver Bird, well, not really that big, and fly off into the ——–to tell the truth it was high noon and the sun was overhead.

A little “Background Music:” I had flown for an airline for seventeen years, stopped three years before. Therefore, the last thing I wanted to do is pack another “Black Bag,” face TSA, and fly somewhere. But, here I was in 24D, climbing out of California, watching the coast go by as we made a standard rate climbing left turn to put an “E” in the compass. I settled in, earphones on, “Smooth” music in my ears, “reached down between my legs, eased the seat back,” headrest up, and, fell asleep.

I was awakened by the beverage cart, so I decided that this might be the opportune time to consume my gourmet meal that I had prepared. So, lowering my tray, I carefully removed my baloney and Swiss on a soft roll from my carry on. When I had finished my meal I took my book, “West with the Night” by Beryl Markham, a lady friend had suggested it since I was captivated with both Africa and Flying. It’s a fabulous book. Her writing makes superb reading.
Suddenly, for what seemed only minutes, I sensed the throttles of our “Silver Chariot” being retarded as the pitch of the aircraft changed. We were descending into Texas. Up until now I had not glanced out the window since I saw the coast of Newport Beach slide by.

Then, it happened. I closed my eyes and mentally flew the descent into DFW. I had flown this arrival many, many times. I was transported back in the left seat of my beloved Boeing 727. I had flown as her Capt for some ten years. My mind put me back; back in my comfort zone. I saw the Texas countryside slide beneath my left window and under the nose of the “72.” We descended first through the 20’s, then leveling off at 14,000 feet for the final vector for the approach.

I opened my eyes to glance outside for a visual check. From the view I sensed that we were being cleared for the “Visual backed up by the ILS” for RWY 13R. Once again, I closed my eyes as my hands tuned in the frequencies and set the inbound course on the HSI (Horizontal Situation Indicator); a type of wiz bang compass. My mind put me back into the cockpit flying the approach I had flown so many times coming in from Las Vegas or Denver when I had flown for Champion Air.
Mentally, I went through the motions all the way down final. Power settings, flap settings, gear down, flaps 30, power to 3500 pounds per hour per engine, and the final pitch change just before the 4 main tires contacted the concrete. Throttles to idle, spoilers extended, reverse on 1,2 and 3, not full, no need. I transitioned from flight to ground, hand from the control yoke to the tiller, a kind of steering wheel, as I slowed and took the left hand high speed turnoff.

The “Welcome to Dallas” broke the trance. I was back in 24D.

I had not missed flying for almost three years. I had taken four trips since then but none were to a familiar aerodrome. This flight had been truly different, truly MAGIC. I really did miss flying. I missed my old companion the 727. We had spent many years together, good weather and bad, day trips flying “East into the rising Sun” and nights flying “West with the Night.” Yes, there is a God, and today he reminded me that, The Heart Remembers.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy

10 Aug

My Friend Henry

I had just returned to Las Vegas after a short time flying out of Kennedy Airport in New York. I was walking up to the gate where my aircraft was to depart and noticed this man standing at the podium at the gate.

He was busily typing on the keyboard and looking over the paperwork on the desk. He was a tall and slender man, and as I sauntered up to the podium he looked up from his duties and with a smile and warm good morning I introduced myself. He then stepped away from the podium, put out his hand and with a smile I will never forget said, ”Good Morning Captain, my name is Henry and I’ll be your gate agent this morning.” With a firm handshake, we became instant friends.

Henry had this way about him. He always seemed happy and willing to do whatever it took to get the job at hand completed. We hit it off instantly. We started some small talk and soon found out that we were both Ex Air Force. I had served four years and he had retired from the service. Hence our instant connection. We had both been Sergeants, non-commissioned officers, and had the same military work ethic. That also accounted for his demeanor, the way he carried himself and the way he treated everyone that he came in contact with. His white shirt was always pressed and he wore his name tag proudly over his left breast pocket.

Over the years there was never an unkind word between us. I was always pleased to see that he was in charge of my flights. I considered him the Captain till the door was closed. He would always check with the crews, both front and back, to make sure we had what we needed. He would come into the cockpit and always make sure that all was well. He cared, he genuinely cared, not only for the crew but the passengers.

I still remember him coming into the cockpit. Sometimes he would sit on the jump seat behind me and watch as we went thru our routine. When the time came, he would ask if we were ready and if it was okay to board. It was always a pleasure to have him aboard.

Over the years we established a bond. We were more than just employees doing our jobs. We were like brothers who could talk to each other about anything. Whenever I got there early and the plane was empty I would make coffee and make sure that he had some. We shared laughs and sorrows over coffee while sitting in the plane. Sometimes the time got away from us. Oh Well.

I had the pleasure to have been introduced to his charming wife. They had a relationship that I truly envied. Whenever you saw them together you instantly knew of the love and respect that they shared. It was an honor to have known them both.

I left the flying community in 2006. I was offered a position that took me away from Las Vegas and those that I knew. We lost touch until this thing called “Facebook” came along and I reconnected with Henrys wife Marcia. I was sad to hear that Henry had passed and was now watching down on all of us. He is still taking care of us as he always had.

I will never forget the man with the smile and handshake that instantly set you at ease. He was a true friend and one of those that you just can never forget. He was a part of my flying career and I don’t know if he knew it, but part of my dream of flight. He is a bright thread in the tapestry that makes up the life that is mine, and I am sure many others whose lives he has touched.

You are missed my friend, by me and countless others whose lives you touched. You set an example for others to follow and aspire too. Henry, I am proud to have called you friend, Thank You. You made everyday I saw you a little brighter and a little better. God Bless Captain.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy

03 Aug

A Vanishing Hobby?

model airplanes

Captain Billy’s (Significantly Scaled Back After a Move) Model Collection.

As mentioned in my previous post, growing up in a small (very small) New England town in the 50s and 60s, one of my strongest connections to the world of aviation was the small store on Main Street, Danbury, Connecticut, called The Hobby House. I was also exposed to new, and old, aircraft on the TV shows of that era. Shows such as, Air Power, Sky King, Steve Canyon, The Whirly Birds, and of course, Victory at Sea, to name a few. It was on those programs that I sat on the floor, with dad in his chair, and saw the modern day, for the 50s and 60s, aircraft and those of World Wars I, II and Korea. There were few, if any, airshows back then around my area. So, my only connection was the TV, books from the small aviation section of the Danbury Library, or seeing them on display at the hobby store.

As I mentioned, it was tough to decide how to best spend that dollar, and which model I would add to the collection on the top of my dresser. I am presently looking at an old Aurora kit from 1963 that is marked $.50 and now is listed on eBay for $64.95. Also, since I was the one who was going to build it on my own, it needed to be simple. Most of mine were done out of the box. No painting, just the decals. They never came out like I imagined them, since I never had the skill of that master model builder from my childhood. I have come close recently.

Today, the small, privately-owned hobby stores are just a memory in most areas. Along with, I believe, the desire of today’s youth to take the time and patience it requires to build one. At one point in my adult life, I had collected some 250+ model kits. I still enjoy building models, and taking the time to finish them, like I remember from that old wooden and glass case. As you can see my “stash” is somewhat reduced from what it was.

Today, one of the remaining chain stores is Hobby Town, which I frequent. There I can wander the aisles, see models hanging from the ceiling, and sometimes find a treasure. Another of my relaxing things to do, besides build and write, is to sit down in the mornings with a cup of coffee and peruse the latest edition of the Squadron monthly catalog and sales circular. I enjoy the feel of the paper. Now, all of this is also available on line @ hobbytown.com and squadron.com as well as others such as hobbylinc.com if that is your desire. From these, and others, you can see pictures and box-art of models from not only, Revell/Monogram but HOBBYBOSS, MINICRAFT, TAMIYA, TRUMPETER, AIRFIX, MPC, ACADEMY, ITALERI, as well as custom kits from SQUADRON.

My question is this… Has this become a vanishing hobby of just the older generation? Or have today’s youth, like many I know personally, become more content with the instant electronic gratification than building something of their own creation? I wonder?

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy

01 Aug

The Danbury Hobby House

The Danbury Hobby House on Main Street in Danbury, Connecticut was my ‘source’ as a kid. It was my connection to the world of plastic and wood models. Whenever the opportunity availed itself, I would visit my “Dreamland.” The Hobby House was a small store located on the West side of Main Street, just north of the Danbury Library. Whenever Mom had to go downtown, I would always go along and stop by. Even if it was only to press my nose on the window to see what was new.

The store front was built to resemble a small house. Get it now? Hobby House, clever huh. The front door was recessed, giving the look of two Bay Windows on either side. It was painted white with blue trim, as I remember, with the name “Hobby House” proudly displayed over the small gabled roof that finished off the house look.

I only entered that front door if I knew I had the cash, and planned to buy something with my dollar allowance. My brother Bob and I each got a dollar every Friday from Dad’s pay envelope. Yes, that’s right I said pay envelope; cash, no checks. Once inside, it was a feast for the eyes and the mind; a “Feast for the Senses,” as they say. The store was small, with an L shaped wood and glass display cabinet that ran along the left side and back of the store. Hanging from the ceiling were models, which I assume were built by the proprietor. They ranged from large, 44” wingspan, Radio Control and U Control aircraft to small plastic aircraft models. I never went in to just look or browse, or “Poke” as my Aunt Anne and Mom use to say. I was on a mission. Once I went in, I never came out without a treasure.

In the wooden case were built-up plastic models of every type to whet the pallet with dreams of owning one just like it. The walls were lined with shelves, and on those shelves were the model kits. There were hundreds of models by manufacturers, some now defunct, such as Aurora, Comet, Lindberg, Monogram, Revell, and Renwall. There were the wood kits by Sterling, Berkeley, Guillows and Comet. All were “Made in the USA,” truly a rare commodity today. Those walls held a true cornucopia of dreams, a rainbow of color, a dizzying array of types and sizes of boxes filled with many hours of pleasure, and frustration. It was a dream for a kid with a buck.

The rear of the store had a small opening in the wall that separated the store front from the back room. The opening was covered with a curtain of sorts, to hide the place where the “Magic” happened. Believe me the Wizard of Oz had nothing on this gentleman. The aromas and smells that wafted over the wall and from that curtained door were inspiring. Enamels, plastic cement, wood glue (oh, the smell of the Original Ambroid!), and of course the Butyrate Dope, used for covering the wood models. I do believe he built most, if not all, of his display models. The aromas were “Magical.” I still say, “If it don’t stink it don’t work.”

I remember the man who owned the store had what I consider to be the “Patience of a Saint.” How does one make up one’s mind on which one to buy, when you can only afford one? Decisions, decisions, decisions. What was a boy to do? I am sure now, looking back, that he cringed whenever he saw Master William enter his establishment. Not to forget my Mom and Dad, who had to stand there as I decided.

I don’t know whatever became of the Hobby House, the models, or for that matter, the owner. Seems like one day it was there, and the next it was gone. Probably gone the way of many “Mom & Pop” establishments and probably, with my change in buying habits, partly my fault.

The Danbury Hobby House and its owner will always hold a special place in my heart, and my childhood memories. Every time I go back to Danbury, I always drive down Main Street and look at where the shop once stood. I’m always hoping that it may one day “Magically” re-appear.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,

Captain Billy