I’d just finished watching him return to earth after a voyage aboard the “Blue Origin” space capsule of Jeff Bezos. I don’t know about the ninety-year old Shatner’s words. Have I gone far? I don’t really think so. There are a few aviators who seem to have a large impression of my importance, but I don’t think that Shatner’s words were full of import. After all, this was the guy who once had asked the producer of that show, “who is this guy?” referring to me. His question was an important one. After all, I’d been hired as a producer on the show on the strength of “Dawn Flight”, the short subject that my brother, Lawrence, and I had made shortly before I met the creator who hired me on the spot at W.A. Palmer Films, the lab that had provided post production services for Larry and me. Shatner’s attitude toward me was certainly justified. After all, He’d been hired to play the lead in a popular television series that utilized the services of screenwriters and those who had a vested interest in the preparation that is the hallmark of such a series. I had no experience with such a production and had actually expected the star to “ad lib” his lines as we shot the section of the series that had to do with females in the rodeo business. I have no such illusions now and in fact carefully script the shows that I shoot, although cinematographer Bert Garrison and I still take a degree of pride in the “run and gun” technique that limits us to just the two of us producing most of the shows most of the time. I had followed Shatner’s career in fits and starts although he and if never communicated after our flight home from that location. I doubt if Shatner gave a thought to the future of the young producer who he didn’t have a very good impression of during that time, and, in fact I have to admit that I had not made much of a positive impression on the newly hired captain of the Starship enterprise.

I was reminded of Shatner’s halting way of reciting his lines. Bill Maher, the host whose show I’m a big fan of once said of one actor that they had to slow the teleprompter down to
“Shatner’ to make it go slowly enough.

Shatner was clearly moved by his experience aboard the Blue Origin and he waxed rather eloquently regarding the experience. “Everybody in the world needs to experience this….” he was heard to say. To Jeff Bezos. I think it’s safe to say that tears welled into his eyes at one point as he discussed the flight with Bezos. It was clear that he recognized the difference between the cinematic voyage of the “Voyager” with the actual ride he had just taken. That difference was certainly not lost on me!

A talented pilot who graduated last year from my master class, makes a large part of her living as a tour pilot in Alaska.  She’d like to add “CFI” to her list of ratings and she has some people who want to take instruction from her.  I think she’d be a good teacher.

When he was much younger, Hooper Lansburgh was repairing the leading edge on a C 210.

Jamie Klaes gets some back-seat time from Brian.  Back seat time is important to the development of a new CFI.

A friend of mine was taught by the same guy who taught me. He has a Champ, on which he does some maintenance.  I think he’s a gifted teacher and as he gets older and closer to retirement from his non-flying career, the more I think he should consider flight instruction

Jim Boeckl checks the fuel in his Champ.

What do all of these examples, plus many others have in common?  Just this: It’s harder than hell and fraught with stupid difficulties to become a Certificated Flight Instructor, that’s what. Now, those who know me know that when confronted with a problem, I’m far more interested in finding a solution than I am in figuring out who to blame.  The current situation with flight instructors is different.  I know exactly who is to blame with the current situation and I know what to do about it.  And before I give you the answer, let me give you an example of how crappy the situation is: Every Student Pilot should receive some instruction in maintenance.  Every student and every commercial pilot should receive some instruction in Formation Flying.

Amal Ajmi checks the rotor on a set of brakes.

Cammi Benson rivets a set of linings to bring Cessna 140’s brakes up to snuff

Likewise, they should all understand spins and flight at minimum controllable airspeed.  They don’t.  Virtually all pilots are currently trained to minimum standards. And here’s the news you’ve been waiting for.  I know who’s fault this is.  I bet you do, too.  It’s the FAA.  Do you know that if you want to take a check ride in order to become a CFI, you have to contact the nearest FSDO and THEY will assign a DPE to you?

Janet Lansburgh closes in on Mike Macon’s Carbon Cub.  Mike makes himself available for young pilots to fly formation on. 

Ya know why? ‘Cause it’s considered SO important that they have to be part of the process of certifying Flight Instructors.  Of course, they don’t know much about flying or teaching, so they’ve slowed this process so much that the number of flight instructors may very well be plummeting.

Evidently the powers that be have partially come to their senses and are making some changes which will result in more CFIs as well as commercial pilots.  By the way, since this article was written, my pall Jamie Klaes has not only become a flight instructor, but she is now in charge of a program to teach indigenous kids from villages all over Alaska to fly. A better person could not have been found.  I wish her the best

I’s occurred to me that some of my readers might know, so I’ll welcome any comments about where this custom originated.  But there is something kind of intriguing and kind of artistic about shoes dangling from the branches of a tree.  I happened to notice that among the shoes hanging from this tree were a pair of bright red pumps so either a young lady was in on the tradition or a bishop from the local Catholic congregation was involved.  Hmm, come to think of it, he has rather petite feet!

It was a lovely summer day and I was enjoying the flight.  I was fairly low and following highway twenty as it wound along the Malheur river and I was just South of the little hamlet of Drewsey.  My Cub had been modified in order to have a huge left side window. I had that window open with my arm resting on it like a trucker would, heading down the highway.  Now, all of the folks who take dual flight instruction from me should know that I’m a big believer in the “jumping from rock to rock” school of cross country flying.  Simply stated, you fly from one emergency landing spot to another and don’t ever have to think, should the engine quit.  You’ve already got your landing spot picked out.  This is a tried and true method and has the advantage of your making a carefully considered choice at a time BEFORE there is any emergency.  You have time and lack of pressure on your side.  

I had noted that field, dotted with freshly baled hay, up ahead of me.  It was filed away in my little noodle so that, when the engine suddenly started making a “brapppp” sound, I knew what I was going to do.  I closed the throttle and pulled up into a speed which would keep me aloft a little longer.  I keyed my mic and called to my wife.  “Something’s wrong with this thing… I’m going to put it into a hay field that will be on your right.  It’s got hay bales that haven’t been picked up in it.  I think you’ll see me when you come to it.”  

She rogered me and I swooped into the field.  I had to pick my way between the bales as I touched down and came to a stop.  As the engine ticked to a stop, I hopped out and opened up the cowl.  There, on the left side, my exhaust had parted in two pieces, explaining the sudden sound.  As I stood there, scratching my think bump, the farmer bumped into the field in his truck.  He was a friendly, pleasant fellow, who asked if there was anything he could do for me.  As we chatted, he told me his name.  Wright Wilber.  Holy cow!  If that isn’t a great moniker for a downed aviator to be introduced to in a time of need!  I asked Mister Wilber if he had an acetylene welding outfit and he replied that he did.  My wife had bounced into the field and “Ace, the Wonder Dog” was busy poking and sniffing around the field.  We all jumped into Wright’s truck and drove up to his place, which was very close by.        

Once in the shop, I took stock of the tools.  He had tanks with oxygen and acetylene and a decent torch, which was not as big as I expected.  When I asked him if he had any rod, I was kind of hoping for some nice copper clad mild steel.  He didn’t have any of that, but he did have lots of old, tangled up baling wire.  Perfect!

I set to work.  I had to grind off the aluminization on those Wag Aero exhausts (I’ll never get an aluminized exhaust again!) and tacked the exhaust pieces together.  Then I ran a bead around until my exhaust was back to being one piece.  

We all hopped into Wright’s truck and drove back to the field.  The exhaust went back on the O-235 and I snugged up the nuts.  I thanked Wright and hopped in the Cub, after propping it off.  Away I went, on my way to Ontario.  I looked at my watch in amazement.  It had taken exactly one hour from the time the exhaust got lunched until I took off with it, all fixed.  Now, that’s pretty amazing!

As I look at the whole incident, I realize that it was a combination of two phenomena.  One of them we all have some control over and the other is pure dumb luck.  The first is planning, knowing that the best spot for a landing has been pre-selected.  The second is the incredible luck of that field belonging to a guy who had all the necessities to get me back in the air.  His amazing name is only a side benefit, kind of there to provide a little “Well, I’ll be damned” effect to the whole thing.  

We were delighted to see old pal, Alan Gatward who showed up in his lovely Stinson.  We did a little maintenance and a little catching up and then he and his bride were off to the High Sierra Fly in.

Read the full newsletter.

Mike and Geoff in formation over San Diego

I don’t think I really became aware of this families’ background in aviation until Jerry Groendyke, Bert Garrison and I went to Tennessee to shoot what became “Flying the Chipmunk” on the Tailwheeler’s journal.  Geoff’s dad, Mike Bowman wrote the forward in “Brian’s Flying Book.”  He was an admiral in the Navy and about ready to retire when he went to visit his son in San Diego.  The powers that be lent Mike an FA-18 and the two launched off.  The result is the picture above, which hangs in the Bowman den.  I think it’s wonderful and was great of the Navy to celebrate this family!  

When the second world war started, many U.S. Fliers joined the RAF.  Geoff’s grandfather was one of them and it’s hard to imagine his heroism.  His “Hurricane” was mounted on tracks on a merchant ship and his job was to launch off in it if enemy bombers were spotted, engage them, and either ditch or parachute next to a friendly ship.

What a rich tradition, to be the third generation of this family for whom so much is owed.

In case you missed it, Airshow Pilot is out! The first printed copies arrived in the mail over the weekend and we’re pretty excited for you to have a look.

Airshow Pilot is a story I’ve enjoyed sharing piecemeal over the years. And now one I hope you’ll enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed reliving in its writing.

Thank you to everyone who has made it possible.

Read the full newsletter.

The Tailwheel Town PA12 on a takeoff run at Sisters Eagle Airport (Photo by Walt Lasecki)

Someone once asked me what I thought was the best way to identify an Acme Grad. I answered that it was probably the initial takeoff. You see, the Acme grad will taxi across the hold short zone because he doesn’t realize that he can legally take off on it. This, combined with his attempt to center the airplane on the center line, will leave a lot of runway behind him, where it assuredly does not belong. Then, he will hold his brakes while bringing up the power. This will assure that his takeoff will be an attempt to overcome the inertia of the braked plane plus the sucking up of pebbles and other FOD in the struggling propeller.

The Tailwheel Town grad, on the other hand, will gradually open the throttle at the very beginning of the runway, leaving virtually none of it behind him. He will gradually center the airplane on the centerline, creating a longer takeoff run, and he will add flaps, if necessary once he has gained a bit of speed without them slowing him down. When you see someone taking off using the first technique, you know you are watching someone who was taught “the Acme way”. Yuch!

Happy Swooping (the Tailwheel Town Way),
Brian

It’s been mostly maintenance at the Squirrelwerks.  Eventually, we’ll have a couple of trainers up and ready, but right now I’m spending a bunch of my time on maintenance and re-building while Maggie works on getting our manuscripts ready for publishing on Amazon.  In fact, Airshow Pilot is now available in both paperback and Kindle formats!

Read the full newsletter.

The one fact that this flier hadn’t learned was that the purpose of rudder is to compensate for adverse yaw. Other than certain cross-controlled maneuvers serving as the exception, that is the sole purpose of rudder. But that is not how he used rudder. Instead, he would properly coordinate while rolling into a turn, but once established in that turn, when aileron was properly neutralized, he would leave that inside rudder deflected, causing a skid to the inside of the turn. At first, I tried to simply correct the resulting lack of coordination that this habit caused. But then I realized what was going on and I simply told him that the sole purpose of rudder was to compensate for adverse yaw and that without any aileron, there was no adverse yaw to compensate for. Bingo! The light came on and his problem was over.

Oh, sure, some of that bad rudder work remained, but he realized it and was capable of changing. But the most important thing that this bright and thinking student accomplished was to make me realize how common this error is. And that, aside from the fact that he also fixed my new printer, was what he accomplished while he was here. Oh, and the bottle of fine, single malt Irish whiskey for a bounced takeoff!