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Author Archives: Captain Billy

25 Jan

Captain Billy The Airport Kid

No sooner than the light over Tommy’s canopy had clicked off that morning, the small door opened and in walked Captain Billy and Bobby Z. It was turning out to be a pleasant day here in Tommy’s hangar, Tommy thought to himself. Captain Billy and Bobby Z had stopped by for no particular reason, and had decided to do a quick cleaning, sorting and sweeping of the hangar.

They were just finishing up. The smell of fresh coffee and warm cake donuts filled the hangar. The seashell chairs were placed just ahead of Tommy’s left wing. Two for Billy and Bobby Z, and two more for the inevitable guests that would most likely arrive. The sun was shining in through the big hangar doors on this warm summer morning. One thing led to another, as “hangar flying” does, and Bobby Z asked Billy how he got started in flying.

Tommy listened as Captain Billy sat back in his blue chair and began to recall, “It’s a long story my brother” started Billy, “As a matter of fact, it started right behind us here at that old hangar.” He went on to say how, as a 14-year-old, he had come here with a classmate on their bikes, back when the airport looked a lot different in some areas than it did today.

Billy continued to describe about how they had started by sweeping out that big hangar. The hangar was from back before World War II. It was a rectangular building built out of cinder block walls about 4 feet high. The walls were topped with steel-framed frosted glass with some sort of wire imbedded in it. It let the light in without being totally see through. There were 4 big doors on rails that, when open, slid along the inside wall. They, too, had the frosted glass windows. The roof was made of wood trusses and was curved at the top. On the front, at the top were the words “Danbury School of Aeronautics” painted in red on the white corrugated metal. Hanging off the front was a large lighted “TEXACO” sign.

Billy reminisced, “This is where I took my first lesson, in a faded yellow and red Aeronca Champion. A steel tube, wood and fabric two-seat trainer from the 1940s. You sat in tandem, one in front of the other. No electrical system, and you started it by hand-propping the 65 horsepower, 4-cylinder engine. My dad had surprised me by working out a deal with a friend of his, Ed, who was a local fireman and an aviation instructor. Ed was a tall man who, when seated in the front, blocked the view from the back seat.” Billy shared memories of having to fly looking out the side and watching the position of the wing tips in relation to the horizon. If they were parallel and equal distance, he was level. If one was higher than the other, he was turning. If the angle changed, he was either climbing or descending. “It was a challenge for a young aviator,” he added.

Tommy listened as Billy explained how he and his friend Joey spent every day that summer working there, washing and fueling airplanes. They even got to taxi one occasionally, when the student left the airplane at the fuel island after a lesson. Back then, the fuel tank and fuel island were right next to the hangar. They even taught Billy and Joey how to hand-prop the Aeronca. All this at 14, going on 15 in September. You could never do those things today with the regulations, laws and insurance. “We were told to stop by the manager just before the end of summer due to the changes,” Billy explained, “but we were still ‘Ramp Rats’.”

It was a summer that Billy said he would never forget. “I learned a lot about aviation, and I remember the “hangar flying” the adults did while sitting along the open hangar door in the red and white Seashell chairs. In fact,” he went on, “that’s why there are seashell chairs at Tommy’s hangar, and why that specific type of light is over Tommy’s canopy.” It reminded Billy of the lights in the old big hangar.

Billy explained that the very row of hangars that Tommy lives in was there when he worked here as a youth. Tommy’s hangar area was part of a competing aviation school, sales and charter company called Tiburzi Airways. The daughter of the owner went on to fly for the airlines.

As Billy pointed out toward the airport, he mentioned how back then, the airport had no control tower, just a UNICOM frequency of 122.8 and that the radios were in the FBOs (Fixed Base Operators). There were only a couple of FBOs. There was Danbury School of Aeronautics, the Piper Aircraft Dealer, Tiburzi Airways, The Cessna Aircraft Dealer, and later came Connecticut Air Service and Bluebird Aviation. At the other end was the Beechcraft dealer, Sadler’s Aircraft, and a small avionics shop. The BIG hangar on the northeast corner was the old Doman Helicopter Company hangar.

He explained how there were limited taxiways back then. You back taxied on the runway or, in the taildraggers, the grass along the side of the runway. “In the Aeronca’s we landed and sometimes took off in the grass areas. It saved the tires and brakes,” Billy explained.

Captain Billy went on to tell Bobby Z about one of his first adventures. He was cleaning the windshield on a red and white Piper Tri-Pacer when the pilot came out to pre-flight. As they chatted, the pilot asked Billy if he wanted to go for a ride up to Albany, New York and back. Now, that was a silly question. Billy ran off to ask his boss for the day if he could go, and of course Billy, his boss, said yes. It would be his first flight out of the Danbury area. His first “cross country!” Now, these were the days before cell phones, texting and even answering machines, so Billy tried to call home but there was no answer. The pilot assured him that they would be back before 4 pm, so he would get back before his dad picked him up at 5. So, off they went, flying West, then following the Hudson River up to Albany so the pilot could pick up a part. Well, lunch was involved, as well as a delay getting the part. This was Captain Billy’s first experience with the punctuality of aviation. To this day he can be heard quoting a friend’s saying, “Time to spare, Go by Air.” Things always seem to be on a delay.

Anyway, it was a good day. He learned how to navigate with the NARCO “Super Homer” by tracking the Albany and Wilton Radio beams by following a small needle on the Navigation Radio. But he was late. “Did I mention that I had never met the pilot before? Anyway, I digress,” Billy added. When he got back, there were his mom and dad. They were frantic, at least mom was, that they had arrived and when they asked where Billy was, his boss calmly said that he had flown to Albany and should be back any minute.

Well, the ride home was far from quiet. He sat in the back of the car as mom went on and on about the dangers and responsibility and, and, and… See, his mom hated the thought of him flying, always did, and that was a huge obstacle to his perusing an aviation career. It never happened again. He turned down many chances to fly after that.

But, there was that day, as he put it, “the day I almost got killed.” He had gone up for a short flight over the lake with a gentleman he knew. It was an hour flight, so he just went. They went up in a Piper Colt and were coming back from the flight. As they were entering the pattern, in a right hand turn to enter downwind, and as the left wing on the Colt lifted for the turn, there, filling the small side window was a white Cessna 195, coming from their left and down into the pattern.

“He never saw us. We banked hard right and after a few words over the Unicom, reentered the pattern. After landing, the pilot drove down to Sadler’s to have a discussion.”
“We had entered the pattern correctly,” Billy stated, “the Cessna had cut a corner. I almost wound up a stain on the hill on the downwind leg to runway 26.”

“One last memory,” Billy added, “and one you may or may not believe. I was working one Saturday and was summoned to the office. I was given some plastic polish, some new clean towels, and was tasked to go and clean all the windows on Aeronca Champ N31677. A 65-horsepower model. I was told to do a real good job because Charles Lindbergh was going to take his granddaughter flying to see ‘the fair from the air.’ It was fair season, fall in Connecticut. I hesitated and thought maybe I was being suckered, you know, like the bucket of ‘Prop Wash,’ or the ‘left-handed crescent wrench.’ I was assured that I was not, even though I was still not sure. But I got to go out, sit in the Champ and clean windows, and watch airplanes as they gave rides for the Great Danbury State Fair that was in operation just off the approach end of runway 17.”

“Well, as I was just about finished a very large, very black Chrysler Limo pulled up, and who should step out but Charles A. Lindbergh and a young girl. Stan had gone out to meet him and escorted him out to 677, as I untied the aircraft. After he had seated his granddaughter, he got in, and with one swing of the propeller from Stan, the engine purred like I had never heard it before. With a thumbs up, he then taxied out in one smooth fluid motion. Then we all watched as ‘The Lone Eagle’ took to the skies over Danbury Airport and The Danbury Fair. We watched him land in the grass, taxi in and be escorted to his car. I had gotten to clean the windows on a plane flown by Charles A. Lindbergh.”

“There are a lot of memories here at the old flying field, Bobby Z,” he went on. “Before my 4 years of military service from 1966-70, I took some lessons in a Piper Colt from Danbury School of Aeronautics. After my return, I used the GI bill to secure my ratings both at Connecticut Air Service, which occupied the big hangar that was on the northeast corner. It has since burned down. I finished up at Danbury Airways, the old Danbury School location behind us, where I worked as an instructor and Cessna Citation ground instructor.”

He explained how he went on to work teaching the MD-80 for the McDonnell Douglas Company in Long Beach California, where he and Bobby Z had met, and then on to fly for 16 plus years for the airlines on Douglas DC-8s and as Captain on the Boeing 727.

“So, now you see the path I took to get where I am today. Back in the same airport, the same old T Hangars where it all started so many years ago. Looking at the same hills that surround what is Danbury Airport.”

With that, Captain Billy took a sip of his coffee, a bite of old-fashioned donut, and with a wink to Tommy, gazed off into the blue sky to the East of Tommy’s Hangar. Then, as he eased back in his blue seashell chair, he became, “The Airport Kid” once more. It had been a good day.

14 Dec

Merry Christmas!

Christmas

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS
from ‘TOMMY’s HANGAR’

At this time of year, the crew here at Tommy’s Hangar, Captain Billy, David and Laura, want to wish all of you a Blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year.

2017 has been a busy year here at the Hangar what with the roll-out of our first book in the series as well as planning for the second one.

The Hangar is all decked out for the season. The tree is up and trimmed, thanks to the Elf’s Liam and Bren, with Billy’s homemade airplane ornaments and those that have a special meaning to him. Lights are strung outside the hangar, and Captain Billy’s Lionel and Marx trains are running around the tree. The light over Tommy has also been changed to one that when turned on resembles falling snow giving the surrounding walls the appearance of a soft winter snowfall. All forms of Christmas music have replaced the normal sound of Classics and Rock and Roll.

We have spent the end of the year attending events such as the ‘Wings over Dallas’ air show as well as planning for 2018. We have a book signing event at the local book store as well as planning for attending the authors corner at the EAA ‘Air Venture’ 2018 in Oshkosh WI in July.

Tommy’s crew, Doug, JAC and Bobby Z are busy getting Tommy ready for the upcoming year. There is an ‘Annual Inspection’ to accomplish as well as upgrades to his Avionics and adding new equipment along with the cleaning and polishing to keep him and Captain Billy safe in the upcoming year.

We here at ‘Tommy’s Hangar’ would like to thank all of you who have followed Captain Billy and Tommy this year and hope to continue to hear from you in the year to come.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy

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

27 Jul

My Return to Flying

On 3/30/2010, I returned to where it all started. I took to the air for the sole purpose of flying. Not to get anywhere, or because of someone’s schedule, but for the pure joy of the act.

I took off from Dallas Executive Airport, RBD, headed south, climbing to 2500’. There I took in the spectacle that is the VAST TX countryside. I saw wooded areas starting to turn to green of various shades. Young and old trees. The old ones responsible for the young ones being. The fields that spread before me as far as the eye could see were a palette of colors. Various stages, from the most parched to the vibrant green of young growth to the dark browns of newly plowed soil.

As I cruised along at an astounding 100 knots following this strange thing called a “propeller” I tried some old skills not used in the past 21 years. Steep turns and a few stalls. What is this strange thing called “P factor?”

After a short practice, I headed for an “Uncontrolled Field,” to practice the lost art of “Touch and Goes.” After a half dozen or so, I pointed the nose of the aircraft on no particular heading, for I just decided to “Follow the Road,” I believe it was RT 67, till I saw I-20, and low and behold I actually found the field I had departed from 1.4 hours ago.

I called the Tower, my 4th radio transmission of the day, and entered downwind for RWY 17, turned left base to a “Short Final” and landed. The winds for the day were around 190-210@15G24. A sporting day to say the least. As I taxied to the tie down, I had a smile that would not leave for quite a while. For I had returned to “Flight” as it was meant to be enjoyed. Flying for the sake of just that. For the sheer pleasure of being one with the wind and the sky. To enjoy the earth from a vantagepoint where life can be treasured. I have often said in the past that “I have spent 17 years at 35000’ doing Mach .80 and now I wanted to see it all from 3500’ doing 80 knots.

I began that journey on 3/30/2010. The “Head is Clear, the Mind is Free and the Muscle Memory is Intact.” My “Friends in Flight,” take the time to enjoy flying for what it was meant to be.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy

25 Jul

Mr. Golder and the Little Wooden Airplane

Young Capt Billy

Young Captain Billy In One Of His First Roles as Captain

Mr. Golder was a friend of my Dad’s. I don’t remember his first name, as my Dad always had us address someone by Mr. or Mrs., etc. It was that old-school, military-style respect thing I got from him. I’m not sure of the exact connection, but I believe he was either a classmate of Dads, from the Military, or Dad just knew him from his growing up near Mr. Golder… anyway, no matter, or “Mox Nix” as Mom use to say.

We used to visit Mr. Golder occasionally on our “Sunday Jaunts.” He and his family lived in a small, white, wood house on the outskirts of town in the Middle River district. It sat on a slope of land at the intersection of Franklin Street Extension, South King Street and Filmore Street. His driveway was made up of two small, white stone tire paths and pea gravel, with a center section of grass. He had a garage, but not for his automobiles; it was his workshop. As I remember, it had a concrete floor, and was a ‘Magical Place’ for a young boy. Mr. Golder liked to “Build Stuff” and, as I remember, he was a wood worker. There were examples of his handy work hanging from the rafters, and he always had some sort of project on his bench. I also remember his wife, and the milk and pastries in the kitchen.

I remember talking about airplanes when we went there, and our visits usually coincided before or after our Sunday trips around the airport. On one of our visits, Mr. Golder surprised me with a hand made, solid pine, wooden airplane. It was complete with wheels and a propeller. It was a solid model that I latched on with two hands as I admired it, and thought of how it would be to fly the real thing. I believe it resembled a Piper Cub. It was not finished, no paint or details, just plain wood. That is where Dad and Mr. Golder made their mistake. They had shown it to me. Now I had to take it home. They tried to talk me out of it but I wasn’t having any of that. I would paint it later. It was BIG. Then again, I was small.

If I remember correctly, there is a black and white picture somewhere of my holding the finished project in my Grandmother Viskup’s side yard. Dad painted the fuselage red and the wings yellow. You see, my favorite airplane at the time was, and still is, the Aeronca Champ, and the ones at the airport then were red and yellow. I flew that thing all over my Grandparents’ yard; we were living with them at the time on 8 Blaine Street. I flew it through the trees, around the bushes, and held my eye close to the cockpit to make believe I was inside looking out. Much like a boy, me of course, would lie down to watch a toy train. Ah, the imagination of youth, where did it go?

Sadly, I don’t know what became of that treasure. I will always remember Mr. Golder, his kindness and generosity, and of course Dad for sharing in this experience. To this day, I love giving away Model Airplanes, just for the joy they bring the recipient. I believe I have Dad and Mr. Golder to thank for that. Thanks.

Many, many years later I experienced the joy of a child with his first model once again. My Grandson Aiden, my son David’s boy, saw a model hanging in my condo in California on one of his visits. He wanted that model. I could tell by the look in his eyes. It was a large plastic model of the Flying Tigers Curtiss P-40 Tomahawk. He called it “the shark airplane.” I took it down and gave it to him one day while we were by the pool. I watched as a small boy, around two, grinned from ear to ear and flew his airplane around the pool area, just as I had done so many moons ago when I discovered model planes and imaginary flight.

I’ve also introduced model airplanes to my Daughter Laura’s son, Liam, while I stayed with her family. I have built several for him and have started him on the way to building his own. I treasure that connection and continue to nurture, some might use the term brainwash, the love of Aviation and Flight.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds
Captain Billy

20 Jul

Luke Air Force Base

Where Captain Billy Found Tommy

Luke Air Force Base
Luke Field is located just West of Phoenix Arizona. The land was purchased by the city and leased to the U.S. Army Air Corp for one dollar a year. It was selected as a training base, near Litchfield Park, and activated in February of 1941. It was named after Arizona’s own, Lieutenant Frank Luke Jr, a Congressional Medal of Honor recipient from WWI. He was with the Air Corps and was killed in action on September 29, 1918.

On March 24, 1941 orders to start construction were issued. Three months later, the first aircraft to land at Luke Field took off from Sky Harbor Airfield. That aircraft was a North American T-6, just like Tommy.

Luke has a long and distinguished history as a training base for tactical fighter pilots. It has been decommissioned and re-activated as necessary since 1941, to train pilots, not only in the T-6 Texan in WWII, but also serving as a jet training base with F-80 Shooting Stars, F-84 Thunder Jets, F-86 Sabres for Korea, and then F-100 Super Sabres during Vietnam. It has also been the training ground for fighter pilots on F-16 Falcons, F-15 Eagles and today for the new F-35 Lightning II.

Luke Air Force Base, formerly Luke Field, was my first Permanent Change of Station (PCS) during my four-year stint as a weapons specialist from 1966-1970, AFSC, or Air Force Specialty Code, 462, in the U.S. Air Force. I spent 18 months there on the F-100 with the 4510th Combat Crew Training Wing in 1967-68.

I would encourage you to look further into the Military Base near you, and even those you have read about and seen on TV. They all have a storied history. Though some have been decommissioned, and even disappeared, their history, and the part they played in our Country’s history, can be both interesting and fascinating.

Blue Skys and Tailwinds
“Captain Billy”

18 Jul

A Thank You!

thank you

In a previous entry, I addressed the ‘Method to my Madness’ and the inspiration and thought process behind “Tommy.” So, now I wish to say a public thank you to the people behind the book. To let you know who was involved and the role they played in getting this project off the ground. Pun intended.

In the past, I have put forth my written ramblings to many. Some have read them, some even responded with constructive criticism, while others simply ignored them. I continued to write, nonetheless, always with the dream of seeing my work in print.

After writing “Tommy,” I shared it with my family. Three members to be exact. One, my cousin Marcia, or CUZ, was the first to respond with a most positive assessment. She has encouraged me from the beginning and is a large part why I continued my quest to get “Tommy the Texan” published. Thanks’ CUZ!

Thanks, also, to the three ladies whom I chose to review the manuscript sans illustrations. I hold each of them in very high regard. I knew I would get an honest assessment from each of them, while getting different perspective on it because of their varied expertise and backgrounds. Had they come back with anything less than enthusiasm, I would still be looking. I am proud to have had them review it, and for graciously allowing me to put their names in my first book. Many thanks to Erika, Gretchen and Carol.

Thank you to William Curry and Gwen Ash of Archway Publishing. I am grateful for William’s patience with my situation, allowing me to proceed at my own pace. Gwen, as my concierge, was handed a somewhat different challenge, to say the least. While the original contract called for them to handle everything, editing, layout, cover and illustrations, it changed drastically and they were thrown a curveball, putting it mildly. When I started in January, all I had was an unedited manuscript. No illustrations and no cover. That all changed.

Enter the other two who profoundly changed the direction and production of the book. My daughter Laura and my son David. I asked Laura if she would take a look at the manuscript. She agreed. I asked David if he would be interested in doing the illustrations. He was honest and, although he wanted to, he was very busy and did not want to commit to something he may not be able to fulfill. After a phone call to Archway, a time table was established for a late summer delivery, and David was able to work with the new schedule.

The next five months were the best time of my life. Working hand in hand with my two kids; Coffee meetings with Laura every Tuesday, affectionately known as “Tuesdays with Laura,” and a couple of phone calls per week with David, some with all three of us, we set out on our journey.

Laura knows me and how I write. She edited without tampering with my writing style. I wanted those who knew me to hear me as they read the book. David was handed a list of proposed illustration when we worked the NHRA race together in Las Vegas. I trusted his knowing his Dad, and his artistic vision to create what I saw. I gave him an idea for the cover. He created it, exactly how I envisioned, and then some.

What you see in “Tommy the Texan” is a compilation of the three of us. It is our creation. When it came time to submit all the pieces, we created a mock-up and just said, “Here, print this.” To the credit of Laura’s editing and David’s illustrations and cover, there were no problems and no adjustments. It went from mock-up to print. Almost 8 weeks early.

In closing, I believe that this book has, if possible, brought the three of us even closer than we were. We continue to work together on the marketing and media. We are truly Blessed. Thanks, you Two, we are a TEAM!

Finally, thanks to all who have purchased our book. You, and your children, are the reason I set out to publish “Tommy the Texan.”

Blue Skys and Tailwinds,
Captain Billy