the FUN airplane

in 1975, my long time desire to fly the Boeing 727 came true. Coincidently, many of the old time management teams including Winnipeg flight Operations finally did go past their sell by dates, and retired. i wanted desperately to fly this plane. i was envying my Toronto based high school friend Freddy Miller who was already flying it based in Toronto but i would have to wait until the machine became based in Winnipeg before my wish would come true. Deregulation resulted in another expansion and i soon found myself on a Boeing 727 course with Denis again riding shotgun. His connections ensured first class seating to and from Montreal for ground school and down to Los Angeles for simulator training..such was his audacious self-confidence. The conversion course went smoothly guided by Toronto-based check pilot, Duffy Dweyer ,in the simulator at El Segundo California. i would spend the next twelve years enjoying every minute in this versatile workhorse traveling to many exciting destinations. i cannot say my luck changed but most of my crimes now went undetected and my flying career finally encountered smooth air.

i recall some great days during these years on the 727 and one particular flight during those earlier, peaceful days before the bulletproof door, when passengers were allowed to visit the flight deck and back when brazen sexist men hadn't yet learned to watch their manners:

There we were, a crew of three, just flying along in the middle of the night in a Boeing 727 across the prairies, taking flightweary, hung-over holiday makers from Montego Bay to Calgary. After a refuelling stop in Winnipeg, we three were groggy from lack sleep having been dragged from our beds in Winnipeg when the inbound crew exceeded their duty day and booked off. Now, just over Regina, a flight attendant asked if we’d entertain thoughts of having a cockpit visit by two young ladies. This of course was before 9/11 when airlines not only allowed but encouraged passenger cockpit visits. Sounded good to me. Might wake us up. Two, twentysomething debutants arrived. Even in the dim cockpit lighting we could see they were well tanned. The First Officer, a cheery outgoing worldly guy, seated on my right, immediately engaged them in semi suggestive conversation and asked.

“Did you ladies have a good time in Jamaica and drink lots of rum?” i have to set the table for what happened next. i, as Captain, sit in the left cockpit seat and the First Of- ficer sits on my right both obviously facing forward. the Second Officer sits facing his panel of dials, knobs and switches at 90 degrees to us on a chair which swivels, when necessary, to face the front, like us. There is a fixed observer’s seat facing the front immediately behind me with about the same skimpy leg room as the cabin seats of most chisel-charter low cost airlines. One of the two attractive gals, both well-endowed, was in the observer’s seat where it was impossible for me to see her. The other was standing well back and since i had the cockpit lighting selected on dim, i couldn’t see her well either. The Second Officer, a reticent quiet young man, had his chair swivelled toward the front, his head being a scant few inches from the bosom of the babe in the observer’s seat. The First Officer had turned in his seat and was looking directly at the two femme fatales. i couldn’t see any of the action so i stared soberly straight ahead out the front window, pretending to look for non-existent traffic in the bottomless pit of a moonless night sky. i heard the First Officer brazenly enquire, “Did you ladies get lots of sun?”

“Yes,” They replied.

“Yes,” they replied.

Next he probed? “Can you show us your tide lines?”

He was referring of course to lines left on the body caused by sun exposure where shorts, tops and or bikinis demarcate the tan from the unexposed skin. There was an awkward silence as much as there can be silence in a Boeing 727 cockpit which had a reputation for being comparably noisy. At last, i wiggled enough to turn half way around in my seat and as my scan passed over the First Officer i saw that his eyeballs were virtually popping out of his leering face accompanied by a startled gasp from the Second Officer. Twisting further around in my seat i was just in time to catch a glimpse of both girls sheepishly lowering their sweaters. i’d missed all the fun.

Never at a loss for words the First Officer chuckled and prompted further, “Well those were pretty good tide lines for the top, now how about the bottom?”

Giggles accompanied the buxom beauties as they hurriedly escaped back to the cabin.

Now, we were really wide awake; even me who had seen nothing of the dog and pony show except the drooling reaction of my crew. But alas, more serious in-flight entertainment was in the cards that dark night. A few moments later, the same flight attendant wanted to know if we’d see a young man who wanted a cockpit visit.

“Sure, if he’s not under the influence.” We replied.

“He doesn’t appear to be” she bubbled laughingly.

Again, i have to set the scene. The B-727 has an overhead panel between the pilots that contains among other controls, switches, and indicators, three red striped handles; the engine fire control system. The handle illuminates and sounds a loud bell if there is a fire in its associated engine. Pulling the handle injects extinguisher into the affected engine, shuts off the fuel and hydraulic pumps of said engine and hopefully puts out the fire, shutting the engine down.

Anyway the young man about, 25, unlike the two previous visitors, who had entered the cockpit somewhat uncertainly, strode confidently straight in. He reached up, and without a word or any hesitation, grabbed the fire handle of the centre engine with his right hand. Flabbergasted, all three sets of our eyes simultaneously swivelled up to the fire handle and became riveted to it blocking out everything else. We had tunnel vision, and suddenly all the extraneous cockpit sounds and noises faded figuratively into silence and in our highly focused minds you could hear a pin drop.

Then he blurted out. “What happens if i pull this handle?” it seemed an eternity before i became cool enough to say as calmly but as forcefully as i could, trying desperately to control any quaver in my voice that might betray even the slightest trace of fear.

“First,” i said, “there will be a loud bell and flashing red lights and then you will see all of us doing stuff in a hurry. Then it will get still and very quiet in here and then there will be lots of screaming and yelling as the Second Officer who is standing behind you with the crash axe whacks you on the head with it”.

Without me or anyone else saying another word, he promptly released his grip on the fire handle turned and abruptly strode out of the cockpit. After breathing a collective sigh of relief while all three of us were separately and silently reappraising the advisability of allowing cockpit visits in our minds, the flight attendant breezed again through the cockpit door saying,

“jeez that was a short visit.”

She seemed about to ask something else when in unison we loudly barked a reply to her as yet unasked question…

”NO!" *** it was about this time i ran for office in Winnipeg’s Council 7 for CALPA. Still the bride’s maid, i was Vice Chairman and became involved in flight safety and Pilot Advisory (An unofficial inter-pilot guidance system for keeping pilots from getting into trouble) and Flight recorders. CALPA, along with the company Medical and Flight Operations Departments, set up a pilot’s substance abuse agreement within their employee assistance program that was second to none in the industry. its worthy to note that our union executive positions, right up to and including the president, were volunteers. CALPA’s only paid positions were administrative in nature. True, we were displaced from our flights to attend union meetings with the company at full pay but anybody who thinks attending those meetings was in any way considered a bonus, better think again. Being involved in CALPA or later ACPA, involved sacrificing valuable time off from your family. in LAX we stayed at the Santa Monica Hotel. it was also an older but magnificent hotel a block from the famous Venice Beach and the Santa in 1965, TCA was renamed Air Canada following government approval. After the deregulation of the Canadian airline market in the 1980s, the airline was privatized in 1988. On 4 January 2000, Air Canada acquired its largest rival, Canadian Airlines. in 2003, the airline filed for bankruptcy protection and in the following year emerged and reorganized under the holding company ACE Aviation Holdings inc. in 2007, 34 million people flew with Air Canada as the airline celebrated its 70th anniversary.

Of the many destinations operated by Winnipeg 727 crews, my all-time favourites were San Francisco, (SFO), and Los Angeles, (LAX).We stayed downtown in SFO in an older but centrally located hotel. it gave easy access to the famous Fisherman’s Wharf and the infamous hippie conclave of Haight Ashbury .On arrival at SFO a van with usually the same driver met us right on the ramp complete with a bucket full of iced beer for the entire crew. When our regular guy didn’t show up our first stop into town was the liquor store at San Bruno. Our regular van driver took us on Napa Valley Wine Tours and even fishing charters. Of course, no trip to SFO would be complete without a trip to Alcatraz. The second part of this pairing was a SFO-YC-VR, (Vancouver), cycle with a layover in VR, and at this time, the heyday of hippieness, i’d say VR had more hippies than SFO.

Monica Pier. On weekends, the beach was like a freak show...i saw my first chain saw juggling act there not to mention many famous athletes and Hollywood elites working out at the beach side gym.

We would leave WG at about 7 a.m. and with a stop in YC, (Calgary), would arrive at the S.M. Hotel at about 1 pm. We were just in time for noontime Margaritas on the hotel rooftop bar. it was in LAX that my crew and i took hang gliding lessons. The ground school was in a nearby store conducted by a young African American gal. Our actual flights took place on Dockweiler Beach at the west end of the runways at LAX. if you will pardon the pun, i could not get the hang of it, but my two honchos did... and shamed me.

We had these layovers in the middle of Winnipeg’s bitter winters. You can imagine my amazement when these parings went to junior people like me. The senior guys apparently would rather fly overnight charters to Montego Bay and back and knock themselves out for a few miserly extra bucks for night differential. What kind of idiot would turn down two back-toback LAX layovers in winter for that kind of punishment?

The Boeing 727 was Griffith's favourite mount. He spent twelve years in the left seat of this aircraft, choosing to move on to the B747 for the last five years of his employment with Air Canada.