Va vol 40 no 8 Aug 2012

AUGUST 2012

A I R P L A N E Vol. 40, No. 8

2012

AUGUST

CONTENTS

9

2 Straight and Level

Oshkosh 2012 is now in the history books

by Geoff Robison

3 News

4 The Last of a Very Long Line Pat Flaherty’s Mooney M10 Cadet, aka Ercoupe

by Budd Davisson

9 Larry Bell’s Plush Ride

PMS 124 The 1956 Bell 47H-1, one of the world’s first executive helicopters

by H.G. Frautschy

PMS 661

15 Destinations Finding your way

by Philip Handleman 22 Light Plane Heritage A Line on In-Line Engines

by Bob Whittier

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

STAFF

29 The Vintage Mechanic Aircraft covering, Part 1

by Robert G. Lock

EAA Publisher Director of EAA Publications Executive Director/Editor Business Manager Senior Art Director

34 The Vintage Instructor We don’t know, what we don’t know

by Steve Krog, CFI

Advertising: Manager/Domestic, Sue Anderson Tel: 920-426-6127 Email: sanderson@eaa.org Fax: 920-426-4828

36 Mystery Plane

Independent Business Relationship Representative, Larry Phillip Tel: 920-410-2916 Email: lphillip@eaa.org

by H.G. Frautschy 38 Lessons Learned Weight a minute

by Dave Clark

Rod Hightower J. Mac McClellan H.G. Frautschy Kathleen Witman Olivia P. Trabbold

in Vintage Airplanes

Classified Advertising Coordinator, Molly Nevens Tel: 920-426-4887 Email: classads@eaa.org

VAA, PO Box 3086, Oshkosh, WI 54903

39 Classifieds

COVERS

40 Dancing in the Cloud Tops The view from way above is amazing

by S. Michelle Souder

FRONT COVER: “Hey, isn’t that a Moone…, ahh, an Ercou…ahh, what is it?” is often

For missing or replacement magazines, or any other membership-related questions, please call EAA Member Services at 800- JOIN-EAA (564-6322).

the reaction to Pat Flaherty’s Mooney M10 Cadet. The answer, of course, is “Yep.” Read more about the final version of Fred Weick’s safe airplane in Budd Davisson’s article beginning on page 4. VAA photo by Tyson Ringinger.

BACK COVER: First, to fix a dumb error in last month’s issue by ye olde editor. Obviously, that was the wrong caption for the back cover. The wonderful painting on the back of the July issue was created by the incomparable artist Sam Lyons. It’s his tribute to one of his favorite aircraft, the Piper Cub. Entitled “J3 Morning”, you can learn more about it and Sam’s artwork at www.lyonsstudio.com On this month’s back cover is something we rarely get to feature within the pages of Vintage Airplane; a vintage rotorcraft. In this case, it’s one of only 33 Bell 47H-1 helicopters ever built. Restored by Paul Faltyn and many friends over a 10-year period, it’s being masterfully flown in this shot by Randy Wagner, a friend of Paul’s for decades, and Paul’s helicopter instructor. Read more about it starting on page 9. VAA photo by H.G. Frautschy.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 1

STRAIGHT & LEVEL Geoff Robison EAA #268346, VAA #12606 president, VAA

Oshkosh 2012 is now in the history books

I

t’s early July and as most of our readers are painfully aware, we have experienced a really tough summer here in the Midwest and throughout the nation. A cool front just came through last night, so we are now very hopeful that the worst of the summer heat and high winds are past, and our electricity will stay connected, and we will return to the normal warm days and comfortable cool evenings in Oshkosh for EAA AirVenture 2012. Of course, by the time you read this month’s Straight & Level column, AirVenture 2012 will be in the history books. We are optimistic that you had a grand time and enjoyed yet another episode of the World’s Greatest Aviation Celebration.

You may have heard that AOPA and EAA have recently filed for an extension of the comment period for the third-class medical certificate exemption request, allowing more people to show support for the measure that would allow pilots to fly recreationally using a driver’s license in lieu of a third-class medical. The extension requested would allow for 70 additional days for public comments on the exemption request.

In the brief 20-day public comment period that closed on July 2, nearly 15,000 comments were received by the FAA. Now that the extension has been approved, I would hope those who have yet to file their comments with the FAA will take a few moments to send in their comments. Fifteen thousand comments is a huge message to the FAA and the federal government, but this

2 AUGUST 2012

is a potentially huge benefit to the general/recreational aviation movement. So please file your comments with the FAA if you have not already done so. Remember, we are stronger together. Let’s turn this into 30,000 comments and send the message to the FAA that this is a big deal to us and that we strongly believe in this proposed new rule. Read more about the extension at www.EAA. org/news; look for the story in the News Archive for 2012. The story is also posted on the VAA home page at www.VintageAircraft.org.

The Pilot’s Bill of Rights took a major step forward on Friday, June 29, when the U.S. Senate passed it via unanimous consent.

Another really big deal is the recent passing of the Pilot’s Bill of Rights, which was first introduced last summer by EAA member and pilot Sen. James Inhofe (R-Oklahoma).

The Pilot’s Bill of Rights took a major step forward on Friday, June 29, when the U.S. Senate passed it via unanimous consent.

Senate Bill 3268 had 66 cosponsors and would provide pilots

with expanded due process rights in the event of FAA enforcement actions. The bill will also clarify NOTAM and medical certification procedures for general aviation. SB 3268 is headed to the House of Representatives, where a similar bill has been proposed by Rep. Sam Graves (RMissouri), who is also an EAA member.

We all greatly appreciate the bipartisan support in the Senate for the measure and Sen. Inhofe’s dedicated efforts to move this bill forward.”

Highlights of the Senate bill: •States that in an FAA enforcement action, the FAA must grant the pilot all relevant evidence 30 days prior to a decision to proceed with an enforcement action.

•Clarifies statutory deference as it relates to National Transportation Safety Board reviews of FAA actions that diminish the appeals process.

• Introduces an option for federal district court review of appeals from the FAA. • Requires a NOTAM Improvement Program, requiring simplification and centralized archiving of NOTAMs. • Makes flight service station communications archives available to all pilots.

•Reviews the FAA’s medical certification process and forms.

Sen. Inhofe’s efforts are to be applauded, and I would strongly encourage all of our EAA/VAA membership to call or write their congressmen and encourage them to support the Pilot’s Bill of Rights.

Sen. Inhofe is right on the mark continued on page 39

VAA NEWS

Frautschy to Step Down From VAA Staff Position The Vintage Aircraft Association announced that Henry G. Frautschy, who has been VAA executive director for the past 14 years and editor of its flagship magazine, Vintage Airplane, for the past 22 years, is stepping down from those positions and will be eventually relocating to the East Coast.

Frautschy will join his wife, Brenda, on the East Coast where she works as a certified pediatric nurse practitioner in neurology and serves on the faculty of Yale University. He will formally depart his current role on August 31.

“It has been a true pleasure to work with H.G. over the past 22 years,” VAA President Geoff Robison said. “We will miss his expertise, his attention to detail, and his valued counsel. We wish him the very best in the future.”

Robison added that Frautschy’s departure will also present an opportunity to shape the future direction of VAA, the vintage aircraft special-interest group that operates as an autonomous unit within the Experimental Aircraft Association.

Those future plans will include the

administration and operation of VAA, as well as addressing upcoming opportunities and challenges to vintage aircraft.

Theresa Books will handle dayto-day operations of the VAA organization, while Jim Busha—who currently is editor of Warbirds magazine for the EAA Warbirds of America—will be editor for Vintage Airplane.

“VAA’s mission remains unchanged—to support and promote the preservation and operation of vintage aircraft,” Robison said. “We have the finest organization in the world for those who enjoy antique, classic, and contemporary aircraft, a world-class venue at EAA AirVenture Oshkosh to showcase these aircraft, and wonderful volunteers throughout the organization. We look forward to the future of VAA and the vintage aircraft community.”

“It has been a career filled with wonderful friends, fascinating aircraft, and always interesting aviation history,” said Frautschy, adding, “I’ve truly been blessed during my years at EAA, and I look forward to helping them transition to the next phase in the division’s history.”

FAA Extends Comment Period for Medical Certification Exemption Positive response to EAA/AOPA request The Federal Aviation Administration has granted a request by EAA and AOPA to extend the public comment period for the organizations’ third-class medical certification exemption request, which had already prompted more than 14,000 comments in a brief 20-day period that closed last week.

The number of comments submitted showed overwhelming interest and support for the measure, with those comments still flowing in at a strong pace when the com-

ment period ended on July 2. The extended comment period allows everyone who wants to comment on this important proposal the opportunity to do so.

The new deadline for public comments is September 14, giving pilots an additional 70 days to give their input. The exemption request would allow pilots who fly recreationally the ability to operate many popular GA aircraft by completing an online medical awareness course, carrying a valid state driver’s license, and observing certain operating limitations. An estimated 39,000 pilots could be affected annually by such a change, with the inclusion of as many 114,000 single-engine piston aircraft.

EAA encourages those who are commenting not only to indicate their support for the measure, but also to describe how pilots already evaluate their fitness before every flight they take and how the proposed online course would enable them to do so more effectively.

Other key points include the potential of keeping more pilots flying, and the increasing evidence that medical incapacitation is a very rare cause of flight accidents.

The extended public comment period will not greatly affect any projected timeline for an FAA decision on the exemption request, as the agency had not set any deadline to issue a determination on the proposal.

The direct link to the “Submit a Comment” page (FAA Document FAA-2012-0350-0001) is www.regulations.gov/#!documentDetail;D=FAA2012-0350-0001, then click on the Comment button. You can also access the website from the EAA home page at www.EAA.org, and within the News Archive page at www.EAA.org/news/2012. Look in the July archive.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 3

4 AUGUST 2012

THE LAST OF A

Very Long Line Pat Flaherty’s Mooney M10 Cadet, aka Ercoupe

by Budd Davisson PHOTOS BY TYSON RININGER

T

here is always a last of everything. The last bite of an ice cream cone. (The bottom is the best.) The last Duesenberg.

(The SSJ was sweet!) The last glimpse of a magnificent sunset. And, believe or not, after something more than 30 years of on-again, off-again production, there was even a last Ercoupe, the 1970 Mooney M10 Cadet. And Pat Flaherty of Cincinnati, Ohio, is the lucky owner of the next-to-last one built, making it very nearly the last of the last.

When you walk past a Mooney M10 on the flightline, you’re likely to have several mental responses. Among them would be, “Wow! That’s a cute/good-looking little airplane. What is it?” The follow-on thought would be, “Hmm, sure looks familiar, but I can’t quite place it.” Pat reports that just about everywhere he parks it, whether people say it out loud or not, he can almost see the thought balloons over their heads. Pleased but puzzled looks are on their faces.

The reason people don’t immediately identify the Cadet is simple: Only 59 were built between 1968 and 1970 with something around 48 of them still flying. Spread those few airplanes across a country

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 5

The baggage area behind the cockpit is expanded from the original Ercoupe design, thanks in large part to the completely re-designed cockpit canopy. the size of the United States (twice the size of Europe), and even though they are fairly recent you just don’t run across them very often. Incidentally, if the survival number is accurate (it’s hard to get firm survival numbers on any airplane), considering it has been 42 years since the last one rolled off the line, that’s an amazingly high survival percentage. That alone says something about the airplane’s general handling characteristics—and the care people have lavished on the type.

They appear to love it enough to not let it go derelict in hard economic times. Let’s face it: When an airplane is this cute, it’s less likely to be treated in a shabby fashion.

Pat, the proud owner of the next-to-last Ercoupe ever built, a historic airplane to say the least, has spent the last 31 years as a prosthetist, but he was an aviation

The cockpit of the Mooney M10 is ready for some long-distance traveling, with a full set of attitude and heading instruments, along with a Garmin 196.

6 AUGUST 2012

buff and pilot long before that.

“My dad was in naval air/sea rescue in the Pacific, as a nose gunner on PBMs, the big twin-engine, gullwing flying boat of WWII,” he says.

“I’d listen to his tales of making the first night landing in the open sea just off of Japan and being fired on by submarines and land batteries, and I just knew I was going to have to get into aviation. A friend of his had a Bonanza, and I started down that path. When I was 16, I took the ground school but got no further.

Life, kids, marriage, all the normal things in life took priority. However, when we had our third kid, my marvelous wife, Paula, said, ‘Okay, now is the time. Go get your license!’

That was in ’93 and I haven’t looked back since.”

You just have to love a wife with that kind of attitude, don’t you?

Pat had been a partner in an L-17 (Navion) for some years. Then in December of 2010, as his son, Brian, became old enough to learn to fly, he decided he needed something that both he and his son could enjoy, while Brian took his instruction in it.

Pat says, “I have a friend, Kurt Yearout of Sky Port Services in Middletown, Ohio (the longtime home airport of Aeronca), who is really into Ercoupes and has a company that supplies Ercoupe parts and refurbishes them. He had an M10 Mooney Cadet in his shop that he had rebuilt. It had originally been refurbished in 2002, but then, in 2009, it was being stored in a lean-to that collapsed on it due to a heavy snow load. It had substantial damage to the right wing and cowling.

So Kurt replaced and repaired the cowling and reskinned the wing.

“The engine was okay and had 105 hours on it, so nothing needed to be done to it to get it into the air.”

By this time, Brian was taking lessons. He had started in a Cub, then went into a C-152, and finally into the Cadet.

“He’s really doing well,” says Pat, “and I like the fact that since we own the airplane, we can fly to-

gether between his lessons. Brian has just completed his first year of college, which has delayed the flight training. But his goal is to have his private ticket by [EAA] AirVenture [Oshkosh].

“We really enjoy flying together and have taken several trips in it, but going to AirVenture 2011 has

been the absolute highlight so far.

I’ve taken hundreds of photos of other people’s airplanes, and it was a real thrill to have people taking photos of our airplane. I’ve rented for years, and to own our own airplane is really a kick. But to have it be looked at by so many people was something we just didn’t anticipate.

Ercoupe: Simple Airplane With a Complicated History We’re about to do something really dangerous: We’re going to attempt to summarize the convoluted history of the Ercoupe that led to the M10 Cadet. The reason it’s dangerous is that the life of the Ercoupe includes so many complicated twists and turns that even the experts disagree on a few points. So, if you have some information we don’t have, send it along.

1937 First Flight October 1, 1937, the Erco (Engineering and Research Corp.) Model 310 first flew. It had no rudder controls, control wheel only, and was tri-gear. It was originally flown with a single fin, but during development this was replaced with twin tailfins. Production started 1940 on the Model 415, powered by a 65-hp Continental A-65-8 engine. Production was halted in 1941 because of the war; 112 aircraft had been built. Production was resumed in 1945 with more than 5,000 aircraft produced in the postwar period.

1947 Sanders Aircraft Production of the Ercoupe and all existing inventor y were transferred to Sanders, which completed 209 aircraft from Erco parts.

1950 Univair Univair bought the Ercoupe design and type certificate (TC) to build spare parts.

1954 Type Certificate Sold to Vest Aircraft Some sources state that Univair sold the TC directly to Forney Aircraft Co., while others insert Vest between the two. Vest did not build any aircraft and reportedly sold the TC to Forney Aircraft in 1955.

1955 Forney/Fornair Forney made minor powerplant revisions and produced aircraft in 1958 and 1959.

1960 Air Products Co. Air Products took over production, ending with the F-1A Aircoupe in 1962.

1964 Alon Inc. Alon started to build the design as the A-2 and A-2A Aircoupe with a 90-hp Continental C-90-16F engine, a sliding bubble canopy, and other changes including the addition of rudder pedals and a spring gear on the final version. Production ceased in 1967.

1967 Mooney Aircraft Mooney continued to build the A-2A for several years. It went to a single fin and included a redesigned, wider fuselage with square windows, and Mooney called it the M10 Cadet, which was produced until 1970.

1974 Univair Univair Aircraft Corp. purchased the TC and still has it. Univair produces replacement parts and supply support for the wide range of Ercoupe/Aircoupe/Cadet models.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 7

The Mooney M10’s Ercoupe lineage seems most obvious from this angle, with the wing outline seemingly unchanged.

Pat Flaher ty of Cincinnati, Ohio (right) and his newly-minted pilot son, Brian.

8 AUGUST 2012

Over and above that was the huge surprise and honor of being awarded the AirVenture Oshkosh 2011 Reserve Grand Champion, Contemporary Vintage Silver Lindy Award!

“The airplane isn’t very fast. It cruises at about 95 to 100 mph, but we’re not in much of a hurry. Still, it’s not a bad cross-country airplane because with its useful load of 500 pounds we can fill all the tanks and still get both of us onboard. It has two 9-gallon wing tanks and a 4-gallon fuselage tank for a total of 22 gallons. Since it only burns 5 gallons an hour, that means we can stay in the air a lot longer than either of us really wants to.

“The airplane is a really good trainer and easy to fly. Although it descended from the Ercoupe, it has conventional controls, meaning it has rudder pedals, so Brian is learning how to coordinate correctly. Also, it stalls very gently at 48 mph. We bring it down final at about 80 mph and come over the fence at 65 to 70.

“In the air it has a real sporty feel to it. It maneuvers better than most trainers, and the bubble canopy gives terrific visibility. And best of all, we can slide the canopy open and fly

around in open cockpit mode. When we do that, the turbulence in the cockpit isn’t bad at all. It’s actually quite comfortable and is great for cruising around summer evenings watching the sun set. It is such a nice flying airplane that my wife, who was never a big fan of flying, is comfortable in it and has even suggested flights!”

It’s not often an aviation family can own a piece of history that is both useful and affordable.

Pat says, “Everything about the airplane is relatively inexpensive, when you compare it to other aircraft. The fuel burn is about as low as you’re going to get in a sporty, two-place airplane. It’s really easy to maintain, and even insurance is reasonable. The bottom line is that it’s a fun airplane that doesn’t present that much of a burden.”

All that having been said, Pat grins and says, “The absolute best part about it, however, is that it is a great father/son adventure and something we’ll both treasure for the rest of our lives. I didn’t have the opportunity to experience that with my two older children and wish I had.”

And that, folks, is what aviation is all about.

The 1956 Bell 47H-1, one of the world’s first executive helicopters

Larry Bell’s

Plush Ride by

H.G. Frautschy

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 9

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

to be it. Sure, airplanes are flying machines, but nothing sounds more like a machine than a heli-

Jenny Frautschy gets her first taste of rotary-wing flight with a ride in the very first Bell 47H-1, built in 1956 and restored to better-than-new condition by Paul Faltyn and his many friends.

10 AUGUST 2012

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

If there was ever an object to perfectly embody the words “flying machine,” the helicopter has

copter, with all that exhaust-snarling, shaft-turning, gear-meshing, blade-whopping noise going on.

That racket is practically screaming, “Every bit of work I do is keeping this thing in the air!”

Perhaps that’s why they’re so fascinating, and why some of us just can’t seem to stay away from the amazing flying machine, the helicopter. One fellow with a passion for rotorcraft is Paul D. Faltyn (EAA 379015, VAA 16888) of North Tonawanda, New York, a city between Buffalo and Niagara Falls.

Bell Aircraft was based in that area, so it’s no surprise that Paul has a soft spot for the pioneering helicopters built by Bell. As a youngster he was interested in anything that had something to do with aviation, and helicopters were of particular interest. His high school years in Buffalo, New York, gave him a great background in aviation, where there was a terrific aviation mechanic’s high school, Burgard Vocational High School. By the time he graduated, he had earned his A&P mechanic certificate and his private pilot certificate.

After high school, he worked as a mechanic for a local FBO, Prior Aviation, while at the same time working toward higher pilot ratings.

Eventually, he got involved in the

H.G. FRAUTSCHY H.G. FRAUTSCHY

Faltyn and his longtime friend and fellow helicopter pilot Randy Wagner (right).

The cockpit of the newly restored Bell 47H-1 is done in beautiful shades of gray with just a touch of red trim, which looks great with the white exterior paint. A new radio rack complements the oval instrument cluster. instruments and avionics business, starting as a technician. He found avionics to his liking, becoming the part-owner of a shop specializing in commercial airline systems.

Retiring from the company in 2004 after 32 years as executive vice president of aero instruments and avionics, Paul had helped build it to what was at the time the largest independently owned FAA repair station in its field, with more than 155 people working for the company.

Paul continues to consult in the commercial avionics side of the

business with his new company, Commercial Aviation Consulting Inc. He’s also a partner in Rainbow Air Inc., a Part 135 helicopter operation that provides the scenic Hughes 500 helicopter rides over Niagara Falls, among other services.

Paul is also one of the founding members of the Niagara Aerospace Museum, and based on his background in aviation and knowledge of aeronautical history, he now serves as the curator for the museum, overseeing day-to-day operations, collections, and restoration

projects. He’s well-versed in restoration projects, having owned two Piper Cubs, a Cessna 140, a Cessna 421C, a Cessna 441, and an AC690B Turbo Commander.

In addition to maintaining those airplanes, he’s owned and restored a 1942 Fairchild PT-26A, a 1944 North American SNJ-5A, a 1944 Piper Navy NE-1A, and now a Bell 47H-1. A 4,000-hour fixed-wing pilot with an additional 1,000 hours in helicopters, he’s been type-rated in the B-25, Learjet, Citation, and had the opportunity to fly various warbirds, light jets, and all manner of lightplanes.

But up to this point, he’d never restored a helicopter, though they’d long been a part of his life. When he could afford to add the rating to his pilot certificate, he did so. “My first helicopter flight was in 1973 in a Bell 47G-4A with my good friend Randy Wagner,” Paul says. “We met when he returned from Vietnam, where he was a highly decorated helicopter pilot. We worked together at the local FBO, and we also graduated from the same A&P school. We still fly together today and work on the helicopter together.”

During a visit to Dallas to attend the Helicopter Industry of America convention more than a decade ago, Paul met a man who had a Bell 47H-1, N985B, for sale.

“I was well aware of the rarity of the helicopter and made arrangements to look over the helicopter and records,” recalls Paul. “The ship was complete, which was a plus, but in very poor condition, and crying to be restored. The helicopter sat in a pole barn in Denton, Texas, for over 13 years and only showed 11 hours on the Hobbs meter. The owner started the helicopter, and I checked the vitals.

All of the engine and transmission parameters were in the green, so I lifted up about 3 feet and did a few hovering maneuvers and set it back down. There is an old saying, ‘Don’t fly it any higher that you are afraid to fall from,’ so I stayed low.”

Over the week at the HAI conven-

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 11

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

PAUL FALTYN

Randy Wagner puts the Bell 47H-1 through its hovering paces on a blisteringly hot day on the Niagara Falls, New York, airport, only a short distance away from the plant where it was built in 1956.

N985B as Paul Faltyn found it in Denton, Texas, in the mid-1990s. While complete, it was is pretty poor condition and needed a complete airframe and systems overhaul. tion, he negotiated the price and finally got the helicopter for less than half of the original asking price, based on the condition and knowing that a major restoration was required. Everything would need to be overhauled or replaced. It was pretty clear he was looking at close to an-

12 AUGUST 2012

other $75,000 to do it right.

The following week it was loaded on a trailer and shipped back to Niagara Falls, New York. That was the start of a 10-year restoration project. We’ll let Paul fill you in on the details: “The helicopter was completely disassembled, inspected, and the com-

ponents were evaluated for repair or overhaul. We removed the old interior including the brown shag carpet, all the wiring, avionics, hoses, etc. The helicopter was down to bare bones.

“The engine had only 11 hours since its last overhaul, but sat for 13 years. I sent the engine and transmission and other components to Gulf Coast Helicopter for inspection.

I lucked out and Bob Haines, owner of GCH, advised that upon disassembly and inspection, the engine was in great condition and all I needed was some minor repairs and updates to the engine. The engine runs great.

“I was impressed with their honesty on the engine, so I sent the entire main rotor and tail rotor drive system and all the accessories to them for overhaul. They did a beautiful job, and every component looked like new when they were returned.

“The main rotor blades are made of wood, and there is no life limit on them. They were in good condition and low time, but I sent them out to be refurbished and recertified. The tail rotor blades were also sent out for inspection and refurbishment.

H.G. FRAUTSCHY

“Another good friend from our A&P school, Mike McGuire, who is also an IA, worked on the project from day one; he was involved in every aspect of the restoration including many of the repairs and reassembly. He has many years experience working on Bell 47s, and has worked on my warbirds and corporate aircraft as well for many years.

“Every nut and bolt, pulleys, cables, hoses, bearings, rod ends, etc. were replaced with new components. Jim Uber, who was an electronic technician at the former Bell Aerospace Corporation, completely rewired the helicopter using the original style wire lettering and lacing techniques. Everything worked perfectly the first time we added power to the ship.

“One of the more difficult items was having new glass made for the helicopter, since it is not the standard Bell 47 bubble. The original glass was cracked and crazed. I was introduced to a gentleman, Mylan Reeder of Detroit, who is also a Bell 47 owner and in the helicopter industry. He could replicate the glass. I took the old glass to him, and he was able to make an exact reproduction.”

Even though the Bell 47 is a simple helicopter, it’s still a complex machine, and there’s plenty to do, as explained by Paul:

COURTESY BELL AIRCRAFT

Newly minted meteorologist Jenny Frautschy displays the Bell Aircraft sign that used to hang in the hangar of the factory.

“Hey, Luuuuucy!” Bandleader Desi Arnaz and his famous redhead wife, comedienne Lucille Ball, ham it up with Larry Bell’s -47H-1.

“I designed a new radio rack and had it fabricated by Bob Hammond, a master metal worker, and all of the instruments were sent out for overhaul and the dials were rescreened to new condition. All of the instrument wiring, lighting, and hoses were replaced with new.

“One of the more difficult items was having new glass made for the helicopter, since it is not the standard Bell 47 bubble.”

“The cockpit was detailed and the flight controls were rechromed, a new interior was selected, and we installed soundproofing in the cabin. I installed new Hooker Harness seat belts, and shoulder harnesses were added for safety.

“The fuselage has a monocoque

design with a baggage compartment unlike the tubular frame on the original Bell 47. Robert Palmatier, who is also a A&P mechanic and one of the old world craftsman when it comes to aircraft restorations and painting…he worked on the fuselage, cowlings, fuel tanks, doors, and cabin—doing all the necessary sheet metal and fiberglass repairs. After the work was completed he primed and painted the helicopter.

“Finally we were seeing daylight, and the project was coming to an end. The helicopter was assembled, rigged, and ground-tested. Randy Wagner and I did some initial hover tests and maneuvers as we were completing the paperwork. I also want to mention Bell Helicopter Corporation, and Harry Gilliand and John Williams, both Bell test pilots, who provided resources to restore the helicopter to original condition. I also need to give a special thank-you to my good friend and partner at Rainbow Air Inc., Robert Culbreth who spent countless hours working evenings and weekends on the project with me, driving cross-country to pick up or deliver parts, arranging for special tooling and equipment, and helping with any task or solving logistic problems.”

Finally, after a decade of restoration work, the Bell 47H was ready for its big day.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 13

“Once we were satisfied that everything was working and rigged properly,” recalls Paul, “Dave James of Helicopter Services in Detroit, who is a Bell 47 guru when it comes to the maintenance and flying of Bell 47s, performed the first official test flight on October 2, 2006.

“Dave was always just a phone call away and always provided his technical expertise, special tools, and assisted in hard to find parts to complete the project. He was instrumental in solving many unique problems that arose during the project.

“After the first flight, I flew with Dave next and all of my friends who assisted were all taken for a ride that day. The reliability and performance was a testament to the craftsmanship and dedication of all involved in the project.

“Randy Wagner and I continued to fly together for the next 10 hours or so, leak-checking the systems, verifying the avionics, and getting familiar with flying the Bell 47 after many years of flying turbine helicopters.”

Paul rolled the helicopter out for a flight so we could snap a few photos, and it’s evident that this Bell 47 is well loved and cared for. No grease was streaked on the rotor head, and even the inside of the engine cowl screens were clean. With its factoryauthentic markings and sharp interior, N985B is a fantastic example of what Larry Bell envisioned an executive helicopter should be.

Special acknowledgment should be made of the help provided in preparing this article by the late Allan E. Ward, one of the volunteers who worked on this project. Allan, an electrical engineer with a strong interest and love of aviation, took the time to conduct and transcribe an audio interview of Paul Faltyn and sent it along to us at VAA headquarters. Sadly, he died just a few weeks before we visited the Niagara Falls airport to shoot photos and meet with Paul. We greatly appreciate his efforts, as well as those of Randy Wagner, who patiently flew the helicopter for our camera in sweltering summer heat. — H.G. Frautschy

14 AUGUST 2012

Larry Bell’s “Executive” Helicopter While we have been the Vintage Aircraft Association for well more than a decade, the reality is that nearly everything we see in the pages of this magazine has been fixed-wing airplanes. In fact, I dare to say, we’ve had more autogyros than helicopters profiled in our membership magazine.

There just are not too many opportunities for the restoration of older rotorcraft because, 1) not that many were built in the first place, and 2) the nature of the beast means they tend to wear out and simply disappear.

Arthur Anderson’s outstanding helicopter design, created under contract while Anderson was working for Bell Aircraft for the years during World War II, has proven to be a durable concept. But those first models had a distinctly utilitarian look to them. They didn’t feature any covering over their steel tube frame, and the pilot and passenger sat on what amounted to a bench bolted to the front of the fuselage frame, with a bubble of Plexiglas surrounding them. Looking very much like an insect built with an Erector Set, it didn’t exactly appeal to the modern executive in the years following the war.

Still, the Bell 47 design proved to be a long-lasting product still in widespread use today, with various models built between 1946 and the end of production in 1974. Including those built under license overseas, 5,600 Bell 47 helicopters were manufactured. But of all of those built, only 33 of them were the -H model.

Larry Bell was intent on creating an executive version of the -47 which he could market to the hoped-for lucrative executive transport market.

The helicopter was originally certified with a 200-hp Franklin engine, and then upgraded to 210 hp. Later on, an STC was available to install a 235-hp Franklin engine. With an aluminum monocoque aft fuselage, the enclosed cockpit, and a plusher interior, the helicopter was ready in 1956, but the market wasn’t. By the time Bell had moved on to the next variant, only a few more than two-dozen had been sold, and the model’s design was shelved. But its development did directly lead to the Bell 47J Ranger, a slightly larger, more powerful version that seated four.

A Bell 47J (H-13J) was the first helicopter to transport a sitting U.S. president, when Dwight Eisenhower was flown from the south lawn of the White House on July 13, 1957. The Bell 47J development led directly to one of Bell’s other very recognizable products, the Bell Jet Ranger, powered by the Allison T-250 turboshaft engine.

Thankfully, there are a few of the Bell 47H models left. According to Paul Faltyn, “Bell only built 33 examples of the 47H-1; today there are three in museums in the United States and one in the United Kingdom. As far as we know, there are only six airworthy examples left in the world; five in the United States and one in Canada.”

Destinations Finding your way

W

by

Philip Handleman

hen I learned to fly, satellite-based navigation in the form of the global positioning system was so many years away from realization that it was akin to science fiction.

The airport and flight school denizens were still adjusting to the very high frequency omnidirectional range, with its network of ground-based antennas resembling upside-down ice cream cones.

If somebody had told us that before powered flight’s centennial year, many light planes would be guided with pinpoint accuracy by cost-effective handheld devices receiving signals from finely calibrated instruments orbiting in space, we simply would have dismissed him as a deluded knave.

Most of the nav and comm radios I used in those days were hardly worth their onboard weight. It wasn’t that the peripherals industry lacked the know-how; it was that the dominant attitude reckoned electronic gear to be exceedingly ancillary to the low-end of general aviation. The readily available products reflected the five-and-dime mindset. Weekend pilots back then tended to fly at the lower altitudes, which limited the

utility of the line-of-sight VOR stations. Even if you were lucky enough to have an operable receiver, the course deviation indicator often hung limp until the inverted ice cream cone nearly came into view.

I don’t remember anyone bothering to wear the rinky-dink earphones of the time. Exchanges with air traffic control were comparatively infrequent, since the airspace enjoyed a dearth of encumbrances. You just hoped to interpret the occasional static-laden, marginally intelligible words emanating all aquiver from the bulkhead’s built-in speaker by the experience that comes from rote procedure. “Enter pattern. Report left downwind.” Got it. “Roger.”

Above: Ptolemy’s World Map was conceived in the 2nd century. When European cartographers finally received a Latin translation of Ptolemy’s work, the map that resulted in the 15th centur y, as seen here, represented a remarkably accurate depiction of the planet as it was then known. The New World was yet to be discovered.

(Collection of National Digital Library Polona via Wikimedia. org/Wikipedia/commons) VINTAGE AIRPLANE 15

Maps for aviators have come a long way from handwritten notes on strips of paper tucked inside a bulky set of flight coveralls. The older map is a Local Aeronautical map of the Chicago area, compete with radio beacon locations depicted.

The silver lining in all this was that you had to study and understand aeronautical charts. They were the tool to get you to your destination. Stuck in my old ways, I still carry paper charts for any airspace I traverse. When the flight covers a considerable distance, especially over unfamiliar terrain, I pull out my trusty plastic plotter and draw route lines.

In this era of little boxes that can adduce triangulations in microseconds and project your aircraft’s position on a multi-colored moving map display with an overlay of near real-time, radar-derived precipitation intensities, pencil and paper may seem old-fashioned.

But if an electrical failure occurs, or the software packed into the little box’s innards has a gremlin pop up in the middle of the journey, then, literally, where are you?

The real navigational challenge was when I started flying open-cockpit. Retaining my grip on the folded chart in the persistent swirling dust devil above my lap was problem enough. If the route went farther than a single creased panel, such that you had to open, flip, and refold to an adjoining panel, the paper fluttered in the process as if it was in a frenzy of agitation.

16 AUGUST 2012

Trying to advance the chart to the right section necessitated both hands and both eyes. I would cup the control stick between my knees and a forearm, take a peek over the cockpit coaming to be sure I was straight and level with no traffic around and then, like a chicken on a June bug, grab the obstreperous paper and scrunch it into submission. Unavoidably, at flight’s end, I was left with a severely crumpled chart, the pre-scored crease lines barely discernible amid the wrinkles, rips, and dog-ears. It was a shame to blemish such a beautiful document, but at least I knew that I was getting my money’s worth.

The main objective was to hold on to that piece of paper. In a way, your life depended on it. If the wind, in all its fury, plucked the chart out of your hands, it would vanish in an instant, absorbed obliviously into the ocean of air around the plodding biplane, never to be seen again. Some of the old-timers who had that gut-wrenching experience said that they’d put down at the next airport if it was a short distance ahead or backtrack to the last airport so as not to tempt fate. Before resuming flight, they obtained a new aeronautical chart or at least a road map.

A friend and fellow Stearman pilot had lost charts to the raging wind a couple of times. Out of frustration, he adopted dead-reckoning as his preferred navigational technique. His preflight planning involved a call to the local Flight Service Station for winds aloft at stations along the proposed route. Thusly informed, he took off and pointed his ship’s nose in a direction that, on good faith, presumed to compensate for the anticipated drift.

Juggling speed and distance in his head, he estimated his time en route. Glancing at his wristwatch periodically once airborne constituted the extent of his in-flight navigation, such as it was. As his precalculated mark approached, he looked ahead for any inkling of his destination. Whether it was brilliance or luck or some mixture of the two, my friend found his chosen landing site every time.

From my perspective his technique left too much to chance. What if the wind shifted or the mainspring in your wristwatch snapped? What, too, if your compass happened to be a few degrees off its recorded deviation or if you calculated magnetic variation improperly because in a fit of last-minute hurriedness you inadvertently reversed that helpful adage that “east is least and west is best”?

Pilotage made so much more sense. For a person like me, it was practically mandatory. I need to know where I’m at, what ground is underneath me, constantly throughout a flight.

The onrushing wind is still a problem when trying to read paper charts in the Stearman. However, there are tricks that partially mitigate the forces of nature, like stuffing the charts in my flight suit’s lower right pant pocket with each pre-folded to the relevant panel and

COURTESY FAA

exposed face-up for sliding out just enough to get a visual reference and cross-check of the position on the GPS screen. Yes, there is a portable GPS mounted in the Stearman. As long as the gadget is thought of as nothing more than a supportive appurtenance, it’s worth having along.

Adhering to the habit instilled at beginner’s ground school, to this day for my longer flights I actually circle landmarks with a pencil about every 10 to 15 miles of the route line etched on a chart. It can be a daunting task when the terrain consists of seemingly endless stretches of desert, forests or mountains, but there Air Markers like this one in upstate New York helped guide aviators in the is usually something distinguishable, days before widespread radio beacon use. In 1934, aviatrix Phoebe Faireven in monotonous landscapes. grave Omlie persuaded the Airpor t Marking and Mapping Section of the Sometimes just a bend in a narrow Bureau of Air Commerce to start the national air marking program. tributary, an intersection of roads, or “Billy” Mitchell, the outspoken air power advocate. a cluster of silos can serve as needed checkpoints.

Great strides have been made in cartographic sym- Again, the railroads were the preferred navigational bology, yet misinterpretations still occur. An instructor guide; however, this time the route was a somewhat who mentored many student pilots told me about a straighter line from New York to San Francisco that particular young man under his tutelage. Before going covered 2,701 miles. As in the case with Rodgers’ flight, aloft, time was spent perusing the sectional aeronauti- the railroad tracks provided not just a pathway above cal chart that covered the local area. When the student the most inviting terrain, but the capacity to resupply and instructor went up on the initial flight, the student the fliers by train.

The Army’s test was in reality a race with 63 contesgazed at the ground below and wondered aloud where the angled isogonic lines were that ran across the chart. tants. From its start on October 8 until its official closure Poring over aeronautical charts or maps of any kind at sundown on October 31, the spectacle was marred by is like reading a good book. You have to pay attention, tragedy. Seven participants died in awful crashes. Many but you can immerse yourself in intriguing details and others were injured as the planes seemed no match for glean a plethora of information. Through simple color- the vicissitudes of the cross-country route. The adverse coding, cartography reveals much about places and publicity didn’t help Mitchell’s cause.

Watching closely were officials of the post office who their populaces, like the extent of city sprawl, elevation profiles, drainage patterns, and probable arability. had talked about adding a transcontinental component During powered flight’s early years, aviator ambi- to their nascent air mail service. Rather than allowing tions outpaced aeronautical charting. Indeed, the very the recent Army failure to deter them, plans were made first transcontinental flight from Sheepshead Bay, New to proceed with a transcontinental airway. Like the York, to Pasadena, California, relied primarily on the Army test route, it ran from New York to San Francisco.

There were 13 interim depot and refueling stops. Using railways for direction. In the fall of 1911, Calbraith Perry Rodgers steered his Wright Model Ex, the Vin Fiz, American-built de Havilland DH-4s outfitted for hauling westward by almost hugging the tracks that had been the mail, the time to transit the route from start to finish laid to foster American expansion. From the great Mid- was estimated to take 54 hours. On September 8, 1920, western metropolis of Chicago, he veered toward Texas the post office inaugurated the route, which prompted to straddle the western mountain ranges at the low- immediate comparisons to the historic Pony Express.

Augmenting the rails as a navigational aid, and est possible altitudes. The 4,231-mile adventure was a slapstick affair punctuated with 15 major accidents. sometimes supplanting them altogether, was the Somehow, cigar-chomping Cal made it to his destina- patchwork formed by section lines, the outgrowth of Thomas Jefferson’s vision for cataloging the new nation in 49 arduous days.

The science of aeronautics advanced considerably tion’s immense surface area. As someone who believed during World War I, and the Army Air Service decided deeply in the values of the agrarian life, the principal to sponsor a “transcontinental reliability test” in 1919 author of the Declaration of Independence and the to showcase the viability of long-distance flying. The country’s third president wanted surveyors to map out project had the full backing of Brig. Gen. William the land not already settled in the vast open territo-

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 17

ries of the Midwest and the West as a way to identify a given tract. Each section consisted of 640 acres in a square shape and could be further divided into proportional squares known as quarter-sections of 160 acres.

The Jeffersonian system allowed for a simple and easily grasped organization of the land to assist farmers in their ownership and cultivation of agricultural homesteads. Over time the section lines tangibly delineated property boundaries through the installation of conspicuous posts, rock piles, fences, roads, etc. Little did the ingenious founding father know that more than a century after envisaging a deft matrix for the new nation’s great expanse, his foresight would have the benefit of empowering a new class of adventurous pioneers who peered earthward in search of direction from conveyances in the sky.

The post office issued a list of specially compiled instructions to its pilots on the transcontinental route.

For the Illinois and Iowa legs, the instructions advised that the proper course involved “keeping on the section lines and flying directly west.” Over a designated spot in Nebraska, the instructions called for dropping south one section for every 25 that were flown west.

That would usher the pilots right into North Platte, a regular fuel stop.

Under the subheading “General Rules for Pilots,” the instructions wove common sense into the flying protocol. In total, there were 16 of these rules, one of which stated: “Maps shall be carried, unless the pilots are absolutely certain of the routes.” Another prohibited performing “stunts.” When landing, the rules gave mail planes “the right of way.” On-time service was a priority so the rules stated: “[T]he motor must be pushed against a headwind.”

Night flight was deemed necessary to get the mail delivered timely and efficiently. To facilitate operations after dusk, high-candlepower beacons were spaced equidistantly along the main airway. This gave the brave fliers bundled up in their open cockpits an innovative means to reach their designated waypoints on schedule.

In 1927, the success of the post office in managing the transcontinental route and the prospect of government subsidies for commercial operators served as twin inducements for airline companies to take over the route. In the preceding five-and-a-half years, the pioneering air mail pilots had flown 14 million miles along the route and transported more than a quarter of a billion letters.

During the depths of the Great Depression, when the fledgling air transport industry paradoxically transitioned into a permanent and powerful fixture in American commerce, a national air marker program emerged.

The idea was that airports and towns across the land would be made visually identifiable for the sake of pilots passing overhead. Participating communities offered passive navigational guidance by having their names emblazoned on the rooftops of prominent buildings.

In 1934, Phoebe Fairgrave Omlie persuaded the Air-

18 AUGUST 2012

To a great extent, Cal Rogers used the “iron compass,” the extensive railroad line network crossing the United States, to provide reliable direction for his epic journey across North America in 1911. port Marking and Mapping Section of the Bureau of Air Commerce to start the national air marking program. As a technical liaison between the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics and the Bureau of Air Commerce, she and Amelia Earhart developed a grid system that divided the country into 15-mile squares. The concept called for the placement of a marker at each point where the lines formed by the squares happened to intersect.

By the time she joined the Roosevelt administration in 1933, Phoebe was one of the country’s most accomplished women fliers. Her career in aviation began when she was a mere 17 years of age and danced the Charleston on the wing of Vernon Omlie’s biplane in front of an air show audience. Vern taught Phoebe to fly, and the two were married.

Slight and round-faced, Phoebe exuded high energy. She became a flight instructor herself and earned a transport pilot’s certificate, the first woman in the country to do so. In her pre-government years, Phoebe’s greatest recognition stemmed from her first-place finishes in major air races.

From her Washington office, Phoebe invited her cohorts to participate in the air marker program. Some of the greatest women aviators of all time were drawn into the effort. Blanche Noyes, Helen Richey, Nancy Harkness, Louise Thaden, and Helen McCloskey were field representatives who flew across the country to promote the program.

The Works Progress Administration, an archetypical New Deal agency, provided the funds for the program through state grants. Reportedly, two years after the program’s initiation, 30 states were actively involved and a whopping 16,000 air markers were on the way to being installed. The navigational benefits took root right away.

However, when Pearl Harbor was attacked in 1941, the proliferation of air markers turned suddenly into a detriment. Worried that Japanese and German bombers might use the air markers as signposts to strategic

targets, the government stopped the program. Many air markers were painted over to preclude the enemy from taking advantage.

After the war, the air marker program went back into operation with Blanche Noyes in charge. Eventually, though, the program was defunded in view of the fact that electronic airways had, at least ostensibly, usurped visual aids. Blanche was so committed to spreading air markers that she continued to champion the cause. The leading women pilots’ group at the time, the NinetyNines, carried on the tradition by painting airport names as well as compass roses on vacant tarmac.

Remnants of this passionate handiwork were still in evidence when I started flying. Indeed, on one of my first flights, an instructor pointed out the name of a town painted in bright yellow letters atop a car dealership only a mile-and-a-half west of the airport. “That’s an air marker. Look for them. They’re good landmarks.”

In the ensuing years, mid-rise apartment buildings went up on either side of the dealership, which eclipsed it and made the air marker visible from the cockpit only if you stood the airplane up on its wingtip at exactly the right moment while flying directly above. I remember one day taking a friend to the open-air parking deck of one of the adjacent apartment buildings to overlook the air marker. Not long after, in a sign of the times, the automobile showroom was converted to a savings-and-loan at which point the roof was tarred over, consigning one of the dwindling number of air markers to the memory of aging pilots.

Envision a journey with no markers of any kind, a voyage into uncharted seas. Through the 15th century, world maps stopped at waters not far from the edge of the European coast and generally depicted the great Asian land mass as landlocked to the east. The reigning view came from the work of 2nd century Greco-Roman astronomer-mathematician-cartographer Claudius Ptolemaeus (better known as Ptolemy) who devised the geographical and mathematical underpinnings for a map of the world that credibly displayed the parts of the planet which discoverers had uncovered up to his time.

Not until the four expeditions of Christopher Columbus in the period from 1492 to 1502, and the two Atlantic crossings of Amerigo Vespucci, believed to have occurred in 1499 and 1501, did cartographers have the wherewithal to add the contours of the Western Hemisphere to their truncated maps. The long-rumored world, the great unknown to the west of European shores, had at last been found; cartographic depictions of it followed, expanding and completing prior maps.

Martin Waldseemuller published his breathtaking World Map in 1507, and it shows the world in rough form as it is depicted in modern maps. The New World was not simply revealed, but, for the first time, it was named America, in tribute to the Florentine explorer.

A nagging void in human knowledge, in the understanding of the outer reaches of our very habitat, was

answered by a handful of voyagers daring enough to sail beyond the margins of existing maps.

Half a millennium later, a similar blankness, reflected in an even grander map, variously frustrates and tantalizes the futurists of today. The Gott-Juric Map of the Universe, first published in 2003, shows Earth’s core at one end and a radiation formation known as the Cosmic Microwave Background, the most distant thing humans can “see” in the universe, at the other end. The map’s two extremes are separated by about 13.7 billion years, the timeline since the Big Bang gave birth to the universe.

In its latest iteration, this sumptuous map portrays the richness of the universe with imagery of our solar system, the Oort Cloud, the Milky Way, and the Great Sloan Wall, among other astronomical marvels. But, like Ptolemy’s map, which went only as far as humans could see, this imposing diagram of the cosmos also comes to an abrupt stop at the opposite margin. If only we could see a little farther. What, if anything, is on the other side of that curtain of radiation so many light years away?

It is stirring to consider that an explorer worthy of his antecedents may one day sail on another momentous voyage of discovery and consummate this most extravagant of maps. Darting across the intergalactic divide at breakneck speed, future rockets will perhaps mimic mail planes, the Pony Express of a far-off tomorrow. Stars might serve as air markers to exotic destinations.

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VINTAGE AIRPLANE 19

On an earthly scale, my memorable destinations have included Chicago’s wonderful if ill-fated lakefront airport, Meigs Field, which was an air marker unto itself. On final approach, I glided alongside one of the most magnificent of urban skylines. Then I walked briskly through Grant Park to Marshall Field’s when the resplendent department store went by that name, bought a token of some kind to affirm the visit and, in advance of an approaching front, hightailed it back home in time for dinner.

Another time, on one of those gilded summer days that seem to run to eternity because the sun dallies above the usually impatient horizon, I landed at a grass strip sandwiched between two tiny farm communities where the local pilots were holding court. They quickly sized me up, and one of the old gents took pity on the greenhorn with tent and sleeping bag because, he said, the mosquitoes would be out in full force at night. He and his lovely wife boarded me in their guest room.

Before turning the lights out in the vintage clapboard farmhouse, my host walked me over to the barn.

He cracked open the door and the shimmering incandescence of a rafter-mounted lamp cast a warm sheen over a stately cabin biplane. It was a Waco from the golden age that awaited restoration and a return to its intended realm of the sky. “Got a Pratt in it?” I asked.

“Nope, a Jake,” he replied. Aviation’s linguistics has a way of cementing the bond among those who fly.

My new friend waved goodbye the following morning as I tipped my wing to him. A relationship was born between irremediable devotees of old flying machines.

This constituted a movable marker, the kind that remains through all future travels for it is embedded everlastingly in one’s heart. From that time forward we stayed in touch, trading flying stories, hopes and frustrations as friends do. Years later my wife, Mary, and I had the privilege of reciprocating the hospitality that my friend and his wife had accorded me by putting him up as our guest during his visit to our grass strip.

When Mary and I established our airfield in the late 1980s, the few remaining air markers in southeast Michigan were precious vestiges of the era that spawned unremitting enthusiasm for aviation and that generated many classic designs like our Stearman. The closest air marker was painted atop a tin-roofed factory in a small town six miles to the north. I imagined passing pilots glancing below in an earlier time to get a fix on their position. Alas, just as we settled into our airfield the factory underwent a renovation and one day soon afterwards as I swung over the town those once durable and reassuring letters were no more, the roof having been transfigured into a blank slate undistinguishable from any of the other roofs in town.

Nevertheless, I fly up that way every chance I get, and when I’m over the factory I bank for an unobstructed view of the roof, hoping that the air marker will magically reappear. The roof has remained imper-

20 AUGUST 2012

vious to my admittedly improbable wish for more than two decades now, but I circle it anyway. It doesn’t hurt to dream; indeed, it keeps our faith alive.

As it happened, we found spare crimson-toned bricks in the aftermath of our construction. Mary asked a tilesavvy friend to help her lay those fortuitous leftovers on a pearly gravel base at the north end of the property in a sequence that would spell out our last name in block letters, just as it appears next to the magenta circle that denotes the airfield on the pertinent sectional aeronautical chart. Unless you know where to point your eyes, the letters arrayed on the ground are hard to spot from the cockpit, but if you fly low and slow, which are the natural parameters for antique aircraft, it’s possible to catch sight of and discern the name. I guess you can say we have an air marker.

To the west of the custom-crafted brickwork is a mixed stand of pine and apple trees and to the north and south are Mary’s wildflower beds in a checkerboard pattern that turn all aglow in early summer.

To the east, prairie grasses sway in the gentle breeze.

Something tells me that Phoebe, Blanche, and their coworkers would be pleased.

In a larger sense, the question of where we are going is predetermined. What really matters is how we get there, the air markers we choose to follow. For all our peregrinations, the scrambling to locate strange waypoints far from home or to retrace familiar routes over the same worn patches of the shrinking countryside, we remain occupants of what a favorite philosopher-pilot branded a big spaceship that hurtles through the universe on a steadfast course beyond our control. Despite periodic pretensions to the contrary, we all share a common trajectory. Our destinations are the same.

Sources and Further Reading Adams, Jean and Kimball, Margaret with Eaton, Jeanette. Heroines of the Sky. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, Doran & Company, 1942.

Gott, J. Richard and Vanderbei, Rober t J. Sizing Up the Universe: The Cosmos in Perspective. Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2011.

Har wood, Jeremy. To the Ends of the Ear th: 100 Maps that Changed the World. Cincinnati, Ohio: F + W Publications Inc., 2006.

Lear y, William M. (Editor). Pilots’ Directions: The Transcontinental Airway and Its History. Iowa City, Iowa: University of Iowa Press, 1990. www.Ninety-Nines.org/airmark.html Planck, Charles E. Women with Wings. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1942.

Wilson, George Tipton. “The Flying Omlies.” Aviation History, July 2002.

Light Plane Heritage published in EAA Experimenter MARCH 1994

A Line

on In-Line by

Engines

Bob Whittier EAA 1235

T

he term “in-line engine” is encountered so infrequently today that many aviation enthusiasts are unsure of its meaning. It refers to any engine having its cylinders arranged in a row, one behind another. Many ultralight engines fit this description. The four-cylinder engines now common in light cars are the in-line type. Decades ago, many luxury cars had in-line engines that people referred to as being of the “straight-8” type to differentiate them from the vee-8 kind.

Until recently, in-line six-cylinder

engines were widely used in cars.

From the pioneer days up to the 1930s, in-line engines were widely used in aircraft. At fly-ins we still see Ranger in-line engines on the noses of some Fairchilds, and inline de Havilland Gipsy Majors on Tiger Moth biplanes. In museums we can see World War I in-line engines such as the German Mercedes. While most of these had six cylinders, some had eight. These were massive, rugged, dependable engines and weighed between 600 and 800 or more pounds.

Because no other airplanes were

around in 1903 for the Wright brothers to look at and duplicate by “eyeball engineering,” the two were very much on their own. By dint of much study, discussion, and original thinking, they worked out their own rules of aerodynamics in order to figure out a workable size and shape for their Flyer.

They calculated that at least eight brake horsepower would be needed to generate enough lift from the Flyer’s thin-airfoiled wings. Finding that no auto or marine engine manufacturer of 1903 could supply a single-cylinder en-

English Cirrus upright in-line engine, top left, powered many light civil aircraft such as the de Havilland Gipsy Moth, top right.

High positioning of carburetor led to thick, gravity-feed fuel tank in center section. Engine heat and grease flew back onto occupants. Poor over-the-nose visibility. Lower right, both upright and inverted Cirrus engines were made in the United States under license. Inverted Cirrus in Great Lakes biplane, lower left, made possible a much cleaner installation.

Editor’s Note: The Light Plane Heritage series in EAA’s Experimenter magazine often touched on aircraft and concepts related to vintage aircraft and their history. Since many of our members have not had the opportunity to read this series, we plan on publishing those LPH articles that would be of interest to VAA members. Enjoy!—HGF

22 AUGUST 2012

gine of that power that weighed no more than 200 pounds, they realized they’d have to design and build their own engine.

It’s very likely that the following thought occurred to them. Perhaps an admirably simple single-cylinder engine would not be as light as might at first be assumed? To keep it and the twin chain-driven propellers turning between its widely spaced power strokes, a heavy flywheel would be needed. So they decided to build a four-cylinder engine.

It’s a surprising but mathematically provable fact that if a singlecylinder engine is doubled in all of its dimensions, its power will be quadrupled but its weight will increase eightfold. But if the cylinder and piston dimensions of the small single are used as the basis for a four-cylinder engine, while power will increase fourfold, weight will also increase only fourfold. That’s one reason why the Wrights were on firm ground in choosing to build a four-cylinder engine.

Furthermore, it is easier than many people realize to make a crankshaft having four throws. One starts with a slab of steel of some suitable alloy and of a length, width, and thickness to suit the crankshaft. As an accompanying drawing shows, by removing selected chunks from this slab, a crankshaft blank is obtained that can be put into a lathe for finishing.

Both in the United States and Europe, four-cylinder in-line engines thus were widely used in both low-production aero engines and volume-production auto engines.

The type was so appealingly easy to design and make! Its comparatively long, slim shape fitted neatly between the frame rails of cars, onto the engine bed timbers of boats, and into the noses of airplanes. The same holds true of in-line six- and eightcylinder engines. In large municipal and institutional libraries one can find Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft, published annually since 1909. In addition to aircraft, these annuals list and describe aero engines. It’s

Left, mathematics can tell us surprising things. If the engine at A is made twice as big in all dimensions to produce the one at B, the power is increased by four but the weight by eight. But if we make a fourcylinder engine having the same bore and stroke as the one at A, the power also increases by four but the weight increases by only four. Above, cutting away certain chunks of metal from a slab of suitable overall dimensions gives a blank that can be made into a four-cylinder crankshaft with equipment found in an average machine shop.

Left, study this diagram under a glass or draw enlarged version.

Compare difference in piston travel between top dead center and 45 degrees and then between 135 degrees and bottom dead center. This surprising difference results from changes in connecting rod angularity. Top right, one form of Lanchester harmonic balancer. Rotating at twice crankshaft speed, revolving weights counter up-down engine shake.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 23

Top left, 100-hp Hall-Scott of 1918 had 606-cubic-inch displacement, weighed 420 pounds, and shook so bad that buyers of surplus Standard J-1 biplanes replaced it with much smoother running OX-5 and Hisso vee-8 engines. Center, primitive early aero engine by Glenn Curtiss shows his motorcycle background. Right, obscure German-made Werner & Pfleiderer circa 1918 was an early invested in-line engine. Water from radiator was pumped to hot cylinder heads and flowed up past cooler cylinder walls.

Lower left, flywheel on one end and heavy propeller on other muted four-cylinder unbalance in this Massachusetts-built Sturtevant of 1918. Had reduction gear. Air entered cooling tubes in oil pan and was then ducted to carburetor. Center, prewar French Potez was mounted vertically with 90-degree gear drive to prop. Idea was to deliver cooling air uniformly to all four-cylinder heads. Right, 40-hp Rogers engine built in Texas in 1920s was air-cooled but had no cooling fins! Air flowing past smooth cylinders and massive AIRPLANE ENGINE ENCYCLOPEDIA aluminum rocker arm brackets was said to draw heat away satisfactorily.

fascinating to leaf through volume after volume and see how many inline aero engines have been used over the years and particularly in the 1910 to 1940 period.

Many of them look much like auto engines, but it’s common to encounter a significant difference.

Lubricating oil was carried in oil pans just as in auto engines, but in one way or another the aeronautical versions were shaped to ensure oil feed to the pump whether a plane was climbing or gliding.

To provide adequate ground clearance for the tips of large-diameter propellers suited to engines operating in the 1200- to 1800-rpm range, upright in-line engines had to be positioned quite high in fuselage noses. To keep intake manifold length as short and direct as possible, carburetors were positioned close alongside the cylinders. This put them so high that gravity feed from fuselage tanks was not feasible.

It’s not easy to design a simple, reliable, and safe engine-driven gas-

24 AUGUST 2012

oline pump because this liquid isn’t much of a lubricant; it attacks shaft seals made of such available materials as natural rubber, flax, and cork, and it’s dangerous if it leaks out of a pump. A few pounds of air pressure in a tank would force gasoline to a high-mounted carburetor. It would also spray gasoline into an engine compartment if a fuel line broke, and this is one reason early airplanes often caught fire.

After the war ended in 1918, designers had time to put thought and testing into developing acceptable engine-driven fuel pumps, and as the 1920s wore on these came into increasingly wide use on new engines. The simple diaphragm-type fuel pumps we take for granted today began to appear on cars around 1930 and on small aero engines around 1940. It wasn’t a simple matter to develop a diaphragm material that would withstand both gasoline and prolonged flexing.

The problem of getting gasoline to high-mounted carburetors

is one reason why many designers favored biplanes and parasol monoplanes. A tank in the center section was high enough to provide simple, safe, reliable gravity feed.

Some planes carried their main fuel supply in a fuselage tank, and a hand-operated “wobble pump” beside the pilot’s seat transferred it into a high-mounted auxiliary tank for gravity feed to the carburetor.

These pumps worked on the vane principle and got their name from the back-and-forth action of their handles. Pilots had to school themselves to pump more gas to the auxiliary tank at regular intervals.

Next time you see a photo of a German Albatros fighter of 1917, note that while the engine cowling as a whole is nicely streamlined, engine cylinder heads, with their exposed valve mechanisms, stuck up into the airstream. Because water cooling passageways could not effectively reach hot valve stems and springs, it was usual to leave these critical parts exposed to air-

flow as a simple but effective way of avoiding excessive heat buildup in the vital valve mechanism.

When the Kaiser’s War ended, discharged European military pilots quickly discovered that refilling the fuel tanks of war-surplus planes powered with big military engines also kept their pockets drained. Newspaper-sponsored competitions were held at Lympne in southern England to encourage the development of low-powered, economical sporting aircraft.

Unfortunately, the rules called for unrealistically small engines. Simply to climb to a useful altitude and cope with rough air, they had to be run at full throttle most of the time with predictable effects on reliability.

Observing the unsuitability of most of the Lympne entries for practical everyday flying, airplane manufacturer Geoffrey de Havilland cast about for a way to create a more practical engine. During the war the Royal Aircraft Factory had manufactured under license

the French vee-8 Renault engine.

It called its version of the Renault the RAF-4D. Parts for these engines were plentiful and cheap on the surplus market. De Havilland hit on the idea of using four cylinders, pistons, and other parts as the basis for a light but reasonably powerful civil aircraft engine.

Appearing in 1925 on the nose of the new de Havilland Gipsy Moth two-seat biplane, the resulting Cirrus engine had four air-cooled cylinders mounted in-line and delivered a useful 60 hp. The Moth quickly became popular, and it didn’t take other engine manufacturers long to introduce their own versions of the 4-in-line layout.

Welcome enough on chilly days but not in warm weather, hot air from the cylinders of Gipsy-style 4-in-line engines whisked back into open cockpits. Gobs of rocker arm grease and oil that had been squirted onto valve stems came with it. While a push on the rudder bar or movement of the head would

BOB WHITTIER

COURTESY CANADIAN AIRMOTIVE

Left, introduced in mid-1930s, the diminutive Walter “Mikron” engine of 65 hp is still being made in the Czechoslovakian Republic. (According to information on the internet, the current distributor in the US is: Mr. Vitek Siroky, BLANIK AMERICA, INC., P.O. Box 1124,, Wenatchee WA 98807-1124. Tel .: (509) 884-8305. Email: blanikam@nwi.net Weight of this air-cooled engine with electric starter and alternator is 154 pounds.

Bottom left – Honda-based CAM 100 now being made in British Columbia.

Below right – Based on the three-cylinder Geo auto engine, this engine is converted by the Reductions firm of Manitoba. Modern high-revving light car engines usually have reduction drives for propeller efficiency.

allow pilots to see what lay directly ahead, it was generally agreed that forward visibility wasn’t as good as pilots would like.

Better cowlings helped somewhat, but in 1928 de Havilland came out with a really good solution to the problem in the form of the inverted model of the Cirrus.

This layout made it easy to discharge hot cooling air, exhaust, and lubricant drips downward and under the fuselage. Metal covers over the rocker arms kept airfield dust picked up by the propeller from getting to these vital parts. Forward visibility was much improved, especially in light cabin planes, which were becoming popular for serious cross-country flying.

Where upright in-line engines had carried lubricating oil in deep crankcases, a new approach was required on inverted engines. Cylinder skirts projected about two inches up into the lower part of the crankcase to keep oil from flowing down into the cylinders. Oil which

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 25

Diagram above shows power impulses of various engine types. Gaps between four-cylinder impulses are caused by diminishing torque input as con rods near bottoms of strokes. But generous overlap leads to six-cylinder smoothness. Also, 120-degree crank throw spacing eliminates characteristic four-cylinder shaking. Most commonly used firing order is 1-5-3-6-2-4. Heavy machinery is needed to forge blanks for six-throw crankshafts.

collected around these skirts was pumped back to an oil tank located at some convenient place inside the cowling.

It all sounds so logical and neat.

However, one can look at a hangar full of in-line engines and read a stack of service manuals without noticing that the in-line, four-cylinder engine has a hidden quirk. It’s a built-in characteristic called “fourcylinder unbalance” by engineers.

One would think that with two pistons going up while the other two are going down, balance would be perfect. But it isn’t.

Textbooks on engine design use formulae and diagrams to explain it, and some of them can be hard to understand due to the specialized technical language used. What, you’ve never heard of first, second, and fourth harmonics? You can take the cylinder head off a fourin-line engine and watch the pistons go up and down for hours without noticing something that shows up clearly in diagrams of the geometry of moving parts.

It’s a demonstrable fact that pis-

26 AUGUST 2012

Top, this stress analyst’s diagram of forces acting on a crankshaft throw shows us how complex the process can be. Bottom, overlap of metal in main bearing and crankpin journal in a modern short-stroke engine’s crankshaft helps its rigidity.

ton travel is uneven. This is because in the course of the piston’s movement from top to bottom of its stroke, the connecting rod assumes different angles which directly affect piston travel. An accompanying diagram of piston travel demonstrates this.

Textbooks on engine design use formulae and diagrams to explain it, and some of them can be hard to understand due to the specialized technical language used.

You’ll be surprised when you see the difference in piston travel in the arcs between top dead center (TDC) and 45 degrees, and between 135 degrees and bottom dead center (BDC). Engine designers use their knowledge of this surprising but very much present difference when working out valve timing, for example. This unequal travel also

affects balance when running.

It’s easy enough to visualize how connecting rods bring pistons to complete stops at the tops and bottoms of their strokes, but few pilots or mechanics are aware of the forces involved. In an engine of 4-inch stroke running at 4000 rpm, the force necessary to bring a 1-pound piston to a full stop is in the neighborhood of 900 pounds.

In any four-cylinder, in-line engine the pairs of connecting rod crank throws are 180 degrees apart.

Two pistons reach TDC and two reach BDC all at the same time. It takes many paragraphs to explain the technical reasons why, but it’s a proven fact that all four pistons at this point will, all at the same time, pull upward on the engine through the connecting rods. Also, this happens twice on each revolution of the crankshaft. Furthermore, all four pistons will push down on the engine when the cranks are at 90 and 270 degrees. Hence this built-in characteristic of “four-cylinder unbalance.”

I had such a hard time visualizing all of this from college-level text-

book mumbo jumbo, so I wrote to an MIT professor asking if he knew where I could find an explanation of it understandable to a lay person.

He was kind enough to reply, but his response took the form of an eightpage, single-spaced letter full of diagrams and figures! Hard as it may be to visualize, we have to accept the fact that four-cylinder unbalance exists. And it’s worth knowing about because someday we might encounter “mysterious” vibration while tinkering with engines.

It varies from one engine design to another depending on things like speed, piston weight, the length of the stroke (which affects connecting rod length and thus angles), and so on. Hall-Scott four-cylinder engines installed at the factory in Standard J-1 training biplanes in 1918 had big pistons and were bad shakers. Some old-time, straight-four marine engines seemed to their owners to be smooth running, but this was due to the tendency of heavy flywheels at one end and heavy reverse gears at the other end to mute the vibration. A few early aviation engines had flywheels at their back ends and heavy hardwood propellers at their front ends, which acted together in similar fashion.

The massiveness of truck and tractor frames can similarly conceal four-cylinder vibration. Modern light cars having four-cylinder inline engines often have very scientifically designed, flexible engine mountings. Four-cylinder unbalance can sometimes be clearly felt when an engine is idling, but when it speeds up, the impulses occur at such rapid intervals that they can blend together and make us think it’s a smooth-running engine.

An early auto designer in England, Professor F.W. Lanchester, invented the “Lanchester harmonic balancer” shown in an accompanying drawing. Running at twice crankshaft speed, the bob weights created up-and-down forces timed to snub up-and-down shakes caused by four-cylinder unbalance. When the bob weights face

toward or away from each other, they cancel their own forces so they do not create side shaking. This system was used in a small number of American car engines of the 1920s, but the growing popularity of straight-6 and vee-8 engines put it on the sidelines. It is used today in the 4-in-line Mitsubishi engine that powers such vehicles as the Dodge and Plymouth compact vans. Mitsubishi calls it the “silent shaft” system. See illustrations of it in overhaul manuals for these vans.

As far as is known the Lanchester balance has never been used in aircraft engines, probably for such reasons as cost, weight, and the saying that “Parts left out of a machine never give trouble!”

When a company has tooled up to make cylinders, pistons, and related parts for a 4-in-line engine, it is tempting to offer a more powerful one by using two more sets of these parts to create a 6-in-line engine. But in doing so, an engine

is created that involves much more than merely two more cylinders.

While several different positionings of crank throws have been used in six-cylinder crankshafts, the most common form has the three sets of crank throws set at 120 degrees to one another. This automatically and inexpensively eliminates four-cylinder unbalance vibration.

However, adding two extra cylinders means we now have a longer crankshaft, and this setup brings in the serious problem of crankshaft torsional vibration. The crank throw nearest to an airplane’s propeller or a car’s clutch must transmit power impulses coming from the other five throws. Early designers were often driven to distraction by repeated crankshaft breakage.

One experiment showed that between one end of a six-cylinder crankshaft and the other, torsional vibration could cause the flexing of as much as eight degrees.

It’s easy to say, “So, make the

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 27

Above left, 1914-1918 straight-6 engines such as this 160-hp Mercedes were brutes. This one had 900-cubic-inch displacement and weighed 700 pounds. Note bad forward visibility in HansaBrandenburg two-seater. Above center, 1939 Ranger gave 165 hp from 411 cubic inches and 350 pounds. Above right, 200-hp Menasco Buccaneer had gear-driven supercharger to provide uniform mixture feed to all six cylinders. Note air scoop on one side of cylinders and baffles on the other.

crankshaft stouter!” Doing so can call for also redesigning and retooling a crankcase, and it goes against aviation’s need for lightness. An early solution in the auto field was to install spring-loaded, multipledisc torsional vibration dampers on the front end of crankshafts.

Later six-cylinder engines in popular cars had dampers which made use of rubber inserts bonded to the metal parts. In the aviation field the usual solution was much skillful engineering and testing. Where some light car 6-in-line engines had only four crankshaft main bearings, usual aviation engine practice was to have seven.

Achieving uniform delivery of fuel mixture to all cylinders becomes more complicated when we move from four to six cylinders. Many different manifold designs can be seen in old engine books. Some aircraft engines such as the more powerful versions of the four- and six-cylinder Menascos of the 1930s had gear-driven superchargers mounted in their back ends. In addition to boosting power, these contributed to uniform mixture distribution by pressurizing comparatively simple, straight intake manifolds.

Early in-line engines such as the Cirrus cooled adequately because their cylinders rode out in the slipstream. Getting adequate air to the rear cylinders of 6-in-line engines was accomplished by fitting a sheet

28 AUGUST 2012

metal plenum chamber to one side of the cylinder row. Air ramming into it fed air under acceptably uniform pressure to all cylinders. As it fed crosswise between adjoining cylinders, it met sheet metal baffles that ensured good flow past cooling fins on the side opposite from the plenum chamber.

In-line engines got started as a result of their simplicity of design and construction. Their low frontal areas made them blend very nicely into the slim fuselages of tandem-cockpit planes. They were ideal for the smaller classes of racing planes. But when cabin planes with side-by-side seating and proportionally wider fuselages became popular, this narrowness became less valuable. Long crankshafts and crankcases added weight. A 165-hp Warner radial engine’s cowling has an appreciably larger air inlet opening than does that of an in-line Ranger of similar power. One would think a Ranger-powered Fairchild 24 would thus be faster, but pilots don’t notice any significant difference in speed. The Ranger weighs about 50 pounds more, which means coaxing more lift from the wings that causes more drag.

So things work out about equally.

You’d think a slim Ranger engine would give better forward visibility than a fat, round Warner, but pilots of Ranger-powered F-24s say that because the Ranger projects so

much farther forward, the peak of its cowling thus rides higher when in three-point position and blocks visibility to the front quarter, as seen from the pilot’s east. We have to consider each airplane and engine as an individual case.

Today, in-line engines are coming back into the homebuilt aircraft movement. Four-and-six cylinder inverted movement. Four-and-sixcylinder inverted in-line aero engines are still being manufactured in the Czech Republic and are finding their way to the United States in small numbers. To meet the need for light weight and compactness in modern cars, both three- and four-in-line engines are being used.

Materials and manufacturing methods have advanced tremendously since the 1930s, and it’s now commonplace for car engines to run over 100,000 miles without major repairs. So they appeal to homebuilders. To achieve power from these quiet, small engines, rotational speeds in the 5000- to 6000rpm range are usual, so reduction drives are needed to turn propellers at aerodynamically efficient speeds.

This adds cost and weight, but we have to do the best we can with what’s available.

By around 1940 horizontally opposed engines had become standard on light planes, and because they are still much in the majority, we’ll look into them next month.

Vintage Mechanic

THE

BY ROBERT G. LOCK

Aircraft covering, Part 1 The subject for the next few issues is aircraft fabrics; it is not my intent to describe how to cover an aircraft, but rather trace the history of fabrics in the covering process and touch on the filler materials that were used.

In the beginning years of aviation, fabric used for aircraft covering was made by weaving natural fibers, such as cotton or linen. This type of material commonly could be found as bedsheets but could be purchased in the “unshrunk” condition, where water could be used to cause initial shrinking of the fabric after attachment to the structure. Natural fibers were bleached, which removed the tan color from the fibers, turning it white. Cotton fabric, a white fiber, wasn’t bleached, but some linen cloth that had a light tan color was bleached. It is difficult to trace fabric history much before World War I; thus much early data pertained to those aircraft that were used from 1914 to 1918. However, it is possible that the pre-WWI ships may have used “banana oil” to tauten and seal fabric weave in the covering process.

Linen fabric met the British Standard 9BSF1 specification for the period beginning in 1914. Additional specifications and manufacturing instructions could be found in the Military Aeronautics Specifications dated 1916. I suspect before the advent of WWI there were no specifications for aircraft fabric since there were few aircraft

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 29

around, particularly in the United States. No doubt one had read of the fabric tearing loose from the upper wings of SPAD aircraft when the ship dived to high speeds and the lift forces were greater than what the fabric could withstand.

The principal countries that produced the flax from which linen fabric is manufactured were Belgium, Russia, and Ireland. During the war the Belgian supply wasn’t available and the Russian supply was difficult to obtain. Ireland was the only source from which to obtain flax used to manufacture airplane linen. Therefore the term “Irish linen” was born.

In the United States the early Curtiss JN-4 Jenny ships were covered with a linen cloth. Although

30 AUGUST 2012

no particular specification can be found, it is, no doubt, very similar or the same as the British Specification 9BSF1 for linen cloth. When the United States entered the war on April 6, 1917, experimental work had been underway at the Bureau of Standards on a fabric cloth made from long-staple cotton fibers. At first there was a decided prejudice against the use of cotton because the dope that had been used to tauten and seal linen fabric didn’t work with uniformity on cotton. This led to the development of a new dope, which provided a big improvement in cotton fabric usage.

As a result of experiments, two grades of cotton airplane cloth finally evolved: the “Grade A” with a maximum weight of 4-plus

ounces per square yard and a minimum tensile strength of 80 pounds per inch, and a “Grade B” with a maximum weight of 4 ounces per square yard and a minimum tensile strength of 75 pounds per inch.

As these cloths went into production it was shown that the Grade A had a tensile strength of 85 to 90 pounds per inch. This was the grade that was universally adopted for aircraft fabric covering after February 1918 because the additional strength more than compensated for the slight increase in weight.

The first orders for about 20,000 yards of cotton airplane fabrics were placed in September 1917, and from that time the use of Irish linen cloth decreased. At the time the armistice was signed ending World War I, the production of Grade A cotton fabric was approximately 1,200,000 yards per month. By August 1918 the importation of Irish linen fabric by the government for war use was discontinued.

In 1917 the only practical limit to the production of cotton airplane cloth was the availability of a large supply of long-staple cotton fibers, particularly from Egypt.

To guard against a shortage of this critical material, in November 1917 the Signal Corps purchased 15,000 bales of sea-island cotton so there would never be a shortage of this raw material for manufacturing airplane cloth. Once the cloth was attached to the structure, water and then dope were applied.

Dope served a two-fold process in aircraft fabric covering. First, it tautened the fabric, and second, it sealed the cloth weave and made it water-resistant. If there were openings between the weave, lifting forces on the wings would be compromised. And the fabric had to be smooth to reduce drag forces in flight. Two types of dope were tested, cellulose nitrate and cellulose acetate.

Nitrate was made from cellulose nitrate and wood chemical solvents that produced a surface

similar to the photographic film of the time. It burned quite rapidly, resembling a July Fourth sparkler! Nitrocellulose dope was preferred for training ships because the enemy wasn’t shooting at them. Acetate was made from cellulose acetate and wood chemical solvents such as acetone. It was a slow-burning material; however, if the ship caught fire in the air, it was going to burn anyway. Cellulose acetate dope was preferred for fighting aircraft because they were being shot at with incendiary bullets that would set the ship on fire. Up to the entry of the United States into WWI, nitrate dope was furnished by various chemical and varnish manufacturers.

The selection of a new dope manufactured from cellulose acetate opened up a wide field of research because there was a wartime shortage of the ingredients, which were acetate of lime (acetone), cellulose acetate, acetic anhydride, and glacial acetic acid. Acetate of lime is the base from which acetone is made, and in December 1917, the government took steps to commandeer all the existing supplies of these kindred products.

Steps were also taken to immediately increase production capacity for airplane dope, resulting in the government making cash advances to large chemical plants located in Collinwood, Tennessee; Tyrone, Pennsylvania; Mechanicsville, New York; Shawinigan Falls, Canada; Kingsport, Tennessee; Lyle, Tennessee; Freemont, Missouri; Sutton, West Virginia; Shelby, Alabama; and Terre Haute, Indiana.

By the time the armistice was signed, 1,324,356 gallons of dope had been produced by the 10 manufacturing plants, which proved to be adequate to meet all government requirements. After the war ended, there were adequate supplies and manufacturing facilities of dope and fabric to meet production requirements for the birth of civil aviation in the United States.

The fabric became known as Grade

A cotton fabric and the dope as nitrate and butyrate. Manufacturing standards and specification for airplane cloth made from long-staple cotton linters were pretty well developed by 1918 and remain in force today.

This would be a good time to briefly explain how these early 1914 to 1918 ships were covered.

From the Curtiss JN-4D Handbook dated 1918, “The main panels are covered on the upper and lower surface with fabric. The fabric is carefully stretched over the framework of the panel. The tension is applied to the linen as necessary for smooth covering, and is directed parallel to the span of the panel. Care is taken not to apply

this tension in the direction of the chord, so that when the dope of the linen contracts, it does not alter the wing curve. For sewing the fabric to the ribs, Andover No. 7 harness-maker thread, properly waxed, is used. This thread is taken around each rib, each stitch being properly locked with a knot.

The stitches are 4 inches apart.

After the fabric has been sewn to the frame, a strip of Aeroplane linen, 2-1/4 inches wide, with the threads frayed at the sides 1/8 inch, is doped over the stitches.�

Enough nitrocellulose dope is applied to tauten the fabric and seal the weave so as to provide a smooth surface. There was no silver dope applied to block ultravio-

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 31

let rays of the sun, which rotted the fabric in a short period of time; therefore, all early ships appeared brown or white in color, depending on whether they were covered with linen or cotton cloth. This was the standard covering process for a WWI aircraft.

Early aircraft covering had no protection from the ultraviolet rays of the sun, which deteriorated cotton and linen cloth at an alarming rate. In the early 1960s, Ray Stits developed a synthetic covering process called Poly-Fiber. He did several tests involving exposure of various types of fabric to

32 AUGUST 2012

the sun. Stits covered several 24inch square frames with Dacron and cotton fabric and mounted them to a test fence at a 45-degree angle to the sun in Riverside, California, for 13 months. The fabric was uncoated; however, a quarter of the surface was covered with plywood to block the ultraviolet rays of the sun. (Riverside is very sunny and hot during summer months.) After 13 months, six 1-inch-wide strips were cut for a pull test. For new Grade A cotton fabric with a strength of 80 pounds per inch, the results showed: • unexposed – 69.25 pounds per

inch (under the plywood protection) • exposed – 6.75 pounds per inch (direct exposure to the sun) • indirect exposure – 43 pounds per inch (backside of panel).

His conclusion was that exposed cotton fabric was reduced to only 8.3 percent of its original 80 pounds per inch. So here the conclusion would lead one to the fact that Grade A cotton fabric needs a good application of silver dope to protect it from the sun’s rays.

The first ships covered with linen or cotton cloth didn’t have any protection, thus deteriorated at a rapid rate. Therefore, when testing Grade A fabric for strength, one could expect the upper surface of a wing to be deteriorated greater than the lower surface because of indirect exposure.

For testing any type of fabric covering on an aircraft, original cotton fabric is the standard for deteriorated strength. All synthetic covering processes must measure to the minimum standards of cotton aircraft cloth.

Into the early 1920s the specifications for cotton and linen fabric cloth were pretty well established.

From the U.S. Army Air Corps Bulletin 23 dated May 1930 and the Bureau of Aeronautics Index dated April 1930, the Navy specification for airplane cotton cloth was 27C12 and 6-97-B for the Army.

Cellulose nitrate dope carried specification 3-151 for the Army and 52D2 for the Navy, while cellulose acetate dope carried specification 3-110-C for the Army and 52D5 for the Navy. In the civilian world, cellulose nitrate dope became known as just “nitrate,” and cellulose acetate dope was commonly known as “butyrate.”

The use of airplane dope that had been developed for WWI is essentially the same today, perhaps with a little modernization. There now is available “tautening” and “nontautening” dope that may be used to control the amount of shrinkage of the fabric cloth. Dope is also available in a limited num-

ber of pigmented colors. Nitrate dope has better penetrating qualities than butyrate dope and is still used with the synthetic Ceconite fabric process. It must be noted that nitrate and butyrate dope will not mix and that nitrate dope will not successfully overcoat butyrate dope. However, the opposite is true; butyrate dope will overcoat nitrate dope.

There were several companies that made the dope compounds and sold to the government during WWI. After the war ended, a few rose to the top in the increasing civilian market. One was Titanine Incorporated, of Union County, New Jersey. Titanine advertised in 1929 that it had furnished dopes and lacquers since 1913. The other company was Berry Brothers, producer of Berryloid aircraft finishes. Berry Brothers manufactured varnishes, enamels, and lacquers from plants in Detroit, Michigan, and Walkerville, Ontario, Canada. The advertisements shown are taken from the November 1929 issue of Aero Digest.

In the next installment we’ll further explore the details of early fabric covering and provide more tidbits of interesting data about the early covering process.

References The Cur tiss Standard JN-4D Militar y Tractor Handbook, 1918

by Cur tiss Aeroplane and Motor Corporation, Buffalo, New York.

How to Cover an Aircraft Using the Poly-Fiber System, April 1998

by Jon Goldenbaum.

Aviation Handbook, 1931 by Edward P. Warner and S. Paul Johnson.

Aero Digest, November 1929. http://Archive.org/stream/ unitedstatesarmy00mixtrich/ unitedstatesarmy http://TheVintageAviator. co.nz/reference workingirish-linen

What Our Members Are Restoring

Are you nearing completion of a restoration? Or is it done and you’re busy flying and showing it off? If so, we’d like to hear from you. Send us a 4-by-6-inch print from a commercial source (no home printers, please—those prints just don’t scan well) or a 4-by-6-inch, 300dpi digital photo. A JPG from your 2.5-megapixel (or higher) digital camera is fine. You can burn photos to a CD, or if you’re on a high-speed Internet connection, you can e-mail them along with a text-only or Word document describing your airplane. (If your e-mail program asks if you’d like to make the photos smaller, say no.) For more tips on creating photos we can publish, visit VAA’s website at www.VintageAircraft.org. Check the News page for a hyperlink to Want To Send Us A Photograph?

For more information, you can also e-mail us at vintageaircraft@eaa.org or call us at 920-426-4825.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 33

Vintage Instructor THE

BY Steve Krog, CFI

We don’t know, what we don’t know Here’s a question for both “seasoned” and relatively new or low pilots. While on a cross-country flight en route to a fly-in, you encounter a problem: The engine begins running a bit rough, the tachometer is showing a 500 rpm fluctuation, and oil pressure and temp both seem to be normal. There is an airport 15 miles ahead, another 12 miles behind you, and a shorter turf runway airport just 2 miles to the right of your flight path.

You’ve been cruising at an altitude 3,500 feet above the reasonably level but unfamiliar terrain. What would you do? Why? This question and similar others are now part of the new FAA Practical Test Standards required to be used by FAA and Designated Flight Examiners alike, as of June 1, 2012. In addition to being able to demonstrate normal flight maneuvers, student applicants are now required to analyze and respond correctly to scenario-based situations while in flight.

The FAA theory behind scenario-based training is to better prepare a student for possible real-life flight situations. So, we instructors are now required to teach scenario-based situational flight challenges.

With little or no practice, how many of you seasoned as well as low-time pilots could take and pass today’s sport or private pilot scenario-based checkride?

Sitting in an easy chair enjoying a cold refreshment at day’s end and thinking about flying (isn’t that what all of us do who have been struck by the flying gods?), it is fairly easy to analyze the situation presented above and draw a conclusion as to how we would handle the problem. But put yourself in the airplane in real time and now what would you do?

Do you continue to the airport ahead? Do you make a 180 and fly to the closer airport behind you? Do you pick the shorter turf runway 2 miles away? What things might you consider in making that decision?

Prior to departure, did you check the METARs for actual and forecast surface winds along your route of flight? How about the forecast winds aloft for the area?

These factors will all come into play in arriving at a sound plan of action. You might be dealing with a 10to 12-knot head wind slowing your groundspeed. Think

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about it for a moment. Do you know the glide ratio of your airplane? How far can your airplane fly or rather what is the rate of descent on partial power? No power?

You’ve got 3,500 feet of altitude to work with, an indicated glide speed of 75 mph, but due to the head wind, the groundspeed is 65 mph. Can you make the airport 15 miles ahead of you?

What if you opt to turn around and take up a heading to the airport 12 miles behind you? Can you make it to that airport now that you’d have an 85 mph groundspeed and a dozen miles to cover before using up every foot of that precious 3,500 feet of altitude? That is assuming the engine continues to run providing partial power.

Many of us would probably make the wrong decision initially, causing a greater problem. That decision would be to start changing the throttle setting. When is a “sick” engine most likely to fail? When power adjustments are inputted! The worst thing one could do is change the throttle setting on a “sick” engine, as it can lead to a complete engine failure. If the problem truly is the engine, trying to save it by throttling back won’t do any good. It is already turning to junk, so use what is left of it to safely get you to a safe landing site.

The very first thing to remember is always have an out for any in-flight situation encountered. In this case, it is strongly recommended that turning toward and flying to the turf runway 2 miles away is the first step in dealing with this problem. At least then we have the option of landing on a runway rather than a farm field, or worse.

Many of us might forget to fly to the nearest runway and begin fumbling with the throttle. Then the engine quits and several minutes have been wasted, causing the loss of perhaps a thousand feet of precious altitude, which further adds to the problem.

After turning to and flying toward the nearby airport, ensuring it can be reached even without power, then and only then should one begin checking off your engine options.

Editor’s Note: There are always exceptions to most every rule, cardinal or otherwise, so for the sake of this example I’ll stick with the basics.

After deciding the turf airport can be reached, make sure that the fuel selector is on the proper tank. The rough-running engine may simply be due to fuel surges caused by inadvertently running a fuel tank near bonedry empty. A few ounces of what is left of the fuel may be entering the fuel line from the tank each time a thermal causes the wings to rock. Switch fuel tanks and give the new fuel supply a few seconds to flow.

Next, apply carburetor heat and see what effect it has on the engine roughness. You may have acquired a good batch of carburetor ice; yes, even on a 75 to 85ºF sunny day, carb ice can cause a problem. Does carb heat application have any effect on the engine?

If a severe case of carb ice is encountered and carb heat is applied, the engine may run better for a couple of seconds, followed by the sickening sound of it not running. Immediately turn off the carb heat. The heat drawn from the carb heat shroud caused a good bit of the ice to thaw, allowing the water to be sucked into the carburetor. The engine will sound like it has quit. Closing off the carb heat allows fuel to flow again, even though it may be somewhat restricted. The engine will cough back to life but may continue running rough. Repeat this process as many times as is necessary until all of the carb ice has been melted.

I have personally encountered this situation a number of times when flying behind a Continental O-200 engine. For some reason this engine seems quite prone to carb icing.

For the sake of our scenario-based training, let us assume the problem was not carb ice and the engine continues running rough. Proceeding toward the turf runway airport, the next items to check are the magnetos. Simply turn the mag switch from “Both” to “Left.” Does it make any difference? Then turn the mag switch to the “Right” position and see if it makes a difference. By conducting this test we can isolate each magneto to determine if one or the other is causing the problem. If, when switching to the “Right” magneto, the engine began running smoothly, the cause of the problem has been determined and isolated. Continue on to your approach and landing on the good magneto.

If fuel, carb heat, and magnetos have been eliminated as the culprit, continue to the turf runway airport. In doing so, however, always plan for the worst, which in this case is that the engine could quit at any given instant.

The recommended manner in approaching the airport and runway has also changed somewhat under this scenario-based training. It is recommended that the power setting remain as is. To get rid of excess altitude, use flaps if your airspeed is in the safe operating range for extending flaps. Otherwise use a slip to accomplish the same. Only when you know that you can safely slow the airplane and still make the field should power be adjusted, as the engine may quit the moment power is reduced. Pick an aim point on the runway approximately one-third of the way down the intended runway. It is al-

ways better and less damaging to you and your aircraft to land long and roll off the end into the grass than it is to come up 50 feet short of the approach end of the runway.

Again, common sense coupled with experience in your airplane will dictate the approach.

I would suggest to all pilots, especially those who fly for the sheer pleasure of flight, that you learn all you can about the airplane you are flying. Many of the vintage airplanes we fly do not have published data for best glide speed, etc. Start by climbing to an altitude that you normally cruise at, for example 3,500 feet above ground level. Set your power for normal cruise; 2300 rpm is common. Then reduce your power to about 1700 rpm to simulate a partial power loss.

Establish the best glide speed and time your descent to lose 2,500 feet. If the best glide speed is unknown, use your usual final approach speed plus 5 to 10 mph.

Measure the distance you have traveled while making the descent. Most everyone today has a portable GPS unit that will be handy for measuring the distance.

With these known values, one can then easily calculate the rate of descent experienced.

Next, repeat the exercise, but this time reduce the power to idle and compare the time and distance to that recorded from the first trial run. Record and keep these numbers readily available. They may prevent you from having to make an off-field landing someday.

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VINTAGE AIRPLANE 35

by H.G. FRAUTSCHY

MYSTERY PLANE This month’s Mystery Plane is a part of the Cedric Galloway collection.

Send your answer to EAA, Vintage Airplane, P.O. Box 3086, Oshkosh, WI 54903-3086. Your answer needs to be in no later than September 10 for inclusion in the November 2012 issue of Vintage Airplane.

You can also send your response via e-mail. Send your answer to mysteryplane@eaa.org. Be sure to include your name plus your city and state in the body of your note and put “(Month) Mystery Plane” in the subject line.

M AY ’ S M Y S T E R Y A N S W E R The May Mystery Plane came from the EAA archives/Cedric Galloway collection. We received a number of answers, but the very first one was from our latest VAA Hall of Fame inductee, John Underwood of Glendale, California. Here’s his letter: Harvey Beilgard (1889-1944) was a local “Early Bird” and inventor who ran a Hollywood-based R&D operation known as Mechanical Research Labs.

One of his inventions was a landing light for planes which was marketed in 1929 as the Beil-Guard Ray. Beilgard

36 AUGUST 2012

became involved with hang-gliding as a teenager while working for Octave Chanute in 1901-02. He reputedly built and flew his first powered aircraft in 1910. It was through Chanute that he became acquainted with the Wright brothers and Glenn Curtiss, for whom he later worked.

The current Mystery Plane is the Beco-Brown L-5, NX18980, shown on Grand Central Air Terminal, c. 1938.

It was Beilgard’s brainchild, with a good bit of input from Lawrence (Larry) Brown, perhaps best remembered for the Miles & Atwood Special and Brown B-2 Miss Los Angeles.

The L-5 was built in Brown’s shop by Gene Mendenhall, Russell Hankforth, et al. It was Hankforth who did the initial test-flying.

The L-5 embodied a number of refinements, including Handley Page slots and flaps. It was intended to offer the most economical and efficient two-place private owner airplane using the 90-hp Lambert. Economy of operation was a key to the low cost in that Beilgard converted the Lambert to run on a mixture of butane and propane, which was available from Shell at less than 4 cents per gallon. Avgas in those days sold for 25 cents a gallon.

Beilgard and another pilot, Edmund White, who ran the old Riverside airstrip on the banks of the Los Angeles River at the corner of Riverside Drive and Fletcher Boulevard, toured much of California demonstrating the airplane, but the defense buildup torpedoed plans for production, due to the shortage of critical materials.

Beilgard sold the airplane to Wallace Shrimpton of Napier, New Zealand, the Fairchild distributor, who was negotiating for production rights just as the British Commonwealth was entering WWII. It’s possible the Beco-Brown L-5 ended up in Australia. Shrimpton had distribution and manufacturing rights in both New Zealand and Australia, with flight operations in both countries. Possibly someone among the New Zealand EAA/VAA membership knows the fate of NX18980.

Other correct answers were received from Wayne Muxlow, Minneapolis, Minnesota; Dave Dent, Camden, Sydney, Australia; John Lyon, Beverly Hills, California; and Wes Smith, Springfield, Illinois.

We enjoy your suggestions for Mystery Plane—in fact, more than half of our subjects are sent to us by members, often via e-mail. Please remember that if you want to scan the photo for use in Mystery Plane, it must be at a resolution of 300 dpi or greater. You may send a lower-resolution version to us for our review, but the final version has to be at that level of detail or it will not print properly. Also, please let us know where the photo came from; we don’t want to willfully violate someone’s copyright.

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 37

Lessons Learned in Vintage Airplanes Weight a minute by

Dave Clark

“Hi, Dave, let’s go flying in your little airplane!” My friend and fellow pharmacist was asking for the ride I had promised him, and it was long overdue. As we left my office about 4:00 p.m., the sun was bright, the sky cloudless, and the temperature was in the high 80s.

Speedway Airport (now closed), on the northwest side of Indianapolis, had a hard surface runway oriented northeast/southwest, and it was a reasonable length, nearly 3,000 feet. A beautiful east/ west grass runway bisected the hard surface at about midpoint. I rarely ever used the hard surface, since every Aeronca Chief in the world is meant to use the sod.

My friend was fairly heavy, and I asked him his weight. “About 235,” he said under his breath. With full fuel that would have put me at about gross weight for the Chief. This was a longtime friend, and I never really thought about his actual weight. I came to know him as a friend and never thought about his adipose mass. After a “follow-me-through” preflight of my little Chief, which I always did when giving rides, I hand-propped all of the 65 tired horses, untied the tail wheel, and asked my friend to join me in the cockpit.

Unheeded Hint No. 1: My friend was large enough to squeeze in, but only if he sat sideways with his left arm behind my back and on the luggage compartment lid.

Since I almost never used the paved runway, it seemed very natural to take off on the shorter sod runway. I made sure I started the takeoff run at the first few feet of the runway and ran it up to full power, and then released the brakes. At least I did have a go/no-go spot picked out to abort the “ride in my little airplane” if needed.

It seemed to take forever to get the tail to come up, with lots of forward pressure needed on the controls.

At that point I should have been smart enough to think something was amiss; not so! Doubts finally started to flood my mind, but just then, we were slightly airborne before reaching the abort spot.

“Wow, I’ve got it made!” I breathed a sigh of relief. Not so fast, Junior bird man. Even with the small amount of ground

effect the little high-winged Chief could muster, we softly settled back onto the ever-shortening “taking off place.”

At this point I was committed to fly, and I held it on the ground to gain as much groundspeed as I could. At the last second (really) I jerked it, yes, jerked it, over the 5-foot wire fence at the edge of the airfield and a mature stand of field corn. I was actually flying, but less than a foot above the tassels on the corn. Now I started to feel the long-ago learned shudder on the controls of an impending stall. I very slightly released a little back pressure, and I could hear the corn tassels playing a tune on my tires. Yikes!

I was really sweating now, and not from the outside air temperature. I again added very slight back pressure, and we were once more inches above the corn. I had to repeat this insanity several more times. My sideways-sitting passenger yelled, “Aren’t we kinda low?” Looking straight ahead, I was only able to shout, “NOT NOW!” He remained quiet.

When I thought we had gained 2-3 feet of “altitude,” I saw another challenge. It was a tree line about a quarter mile ahead. To our right, there was a low spot between some trees. I was afraid to use any aileron, so I gently poked at the right rudder enough times to line us up with the only hope we had to keep us from becoming a ball of steel tube, aluminum, and doped fabric. We cleared the low spot with about 3-4 feet to spare and ended our airborne corn picking adventure. I was happy that I had several hundred hours in my Chief and knew her well.

She was flying, but she was not happy! It took about 15 minutes or so to climb to about 500 feet. I then made the decision to climb to 1,000 feet AGL and burn off some of the fuel to lighten the ship. Then, I thought, “Why don’t I fly a couple of hours, round trip, into Illinois, and it might be a little cooler with more dense air when we get back to Speedway Airport. Every little bit helps.” When we got near the Danville, Illinois, airport, my friend asked if we could land and get a sandwich. I didn’t say it, but I thought, real hard, that the last thing needed at that moment was the additional weight

“Aren’t we

kinda low?”

38 AUGUST 2012

of lunch! Ever since we had gotten up to cruising speed, a whopping 85 mph, everything seemed normal and the flight was smooth.

When we were approaching home, I decided to land on the forgiving sod and to look at the tachometer just as we touched down.

I made a normal approach and flew a standard pattern, paying extra attention to keeping the ship where it needed to be at each altitude point in the pattern. As the tires brushed the grass, I glanced at the tach. It was reading 1800 rpm.

After we had taxied to the hangar area, I decided it was time to start breathing again. I sat quietly after shutdown, but the stillness was broken as my friend asked, “Now can we go get a sandwich?”

When I asked him how much he really weighed, he laughed loudly and said, “A little over 345.” When I asked why he had fibbed about his weight, he laughed even louder. He clearly didn’t understand the gravity of the situation that little fib had put us in.

Mistakes galore were present on my part that day so many years ago.

Use your own eyes and judgment to estimate a passenger’s weight when flying in a small plane. Don’t let your familiarity with the passenger cloud your weight estimating. And if you’re comfortable asking the passenger for an accurate number, don’t hesitate to tell him or her why having an accurate figure is critical to safety.

Do not take off on the runway you “usually use” while flying alone. I probably would have been a lot safer if I had used the longer, hard surface runway. In a little vintage aircraft, it is a lot more critical to accurately flight plan gross weight limits, especially with a somewhat tired 65-hp engine. When in trouble, stay calm and work on getting passengers and yourself back home safely.

That very day I made a vow to be a much more detail-thinking pilot, and I have been true to that vow ever since. Oh, and if you are wondering, yes, then I let my friend buy us a sandwich!

STRAIGHT & LEVEL continued from page 2

when he recently stated, “This bill, if successful, will remedy many of the most serious deficiencies in the relationship between general aviation and the FAA, and ensures that pilots are, like everyone else, treated in a fair and equitable manner by the justice system.”

We should also recognize here the efforts of the EAA and AOPA, who helped compile the legal issues and enforcement procedure background that led to the text in the original bill last summer, and also helped seek co-sponsors of this important protection of pilot’s rights.

It’s also very important for me to recognize the VAA staff, and the hundreds of Vintage volunteers who yet again invested thousands of volunteer hours in not only the preparation of the grounds, but also the herculean efforts to complete the finish work in preparation of AirVenture 2012, and then the actual execution of a safe and pleasurable event. This group is truly exceptional and its members are among the very best of the EAA/ VAA who serve this organization so well each year at Oshkosh.

Well, now the planning for AirVenture 2013 begins. Hope to see you there!

As always, please do us all the favor of inviting a friend to join the VAA, and help keep us the strong association we have all enjoyed for so many years.

VAA is about participation: Be a member! Be a volunteer!

Be there!

Let’s all pull in the same direction for the overall good of aviation.

Remember, we are better together. Join us and have it all.

Come share the passion!

VINTAGE TRADER

S o m e t h i n g t o b u y, sell, or trade?

Classified Word Ads: $5.50 per 10 w o rd s , 1 8 0 w o rd s max i m u m , w i t h boldface lead-in on first line.

Classified Display Ads: One column wide (2.167 inches) by 1, 2, or 3 inches high at $20 per inch. Black and white only, and no frequency discounts.

Advertising Closing Dates: 10th of second month prior to desired issue date (i.e., January 10 is the closing date for the March issue). VAA reserves the right to reject any advertising in conflict with its policies. Rates cover one insertion per issue. Classified ads are not accepted via phone. Payment must accompany order. Word ads may be sent via fax (920-426-4828) or e-mail (classads@ eaa.org) using credit card payment (all cards accepted). Include name on card, complete address, type of card, card number, and expiration date. Make checks payable to EAA. Address advertising correspondence to EAA Publications Classified Ad Manager, P.O. Box 3086, Oshkosh, WI 54903-3086.

A IRC RA F T Sole r em aining Spar tan II, 3 Seater, Built 1932. Original Cirrus Hermes IV engine.

Collector would own very last of type.

A museum piece in mint condition, old photographs, and history. Google zk-arh for photos. Contact rodhj@woosh.co.nz to purchase.

M ISC ELLA N EO U S www.aerolist.org, Aviations’ Leading Marketplace.

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W ay ne A . F or s hey A & P & I.A . 7 4 0 -4 7 2 14 81 Ohio and bordering states.

There’s plenty more . . . and other goodies at www.vintageaircraft.org

VINTAGE AIRPLANE 39

Dancing in t he Cloud Tops The view from way above is amazing by

S. Michelle Souder

My first time ever in an airplane was in a DC-9 from Dulles, Virginia, to Houston, Texas. It was raining when we took off. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get the full benefit of having a window seat. Of course we climbed through the overcast and cruised above the cloud layer that was so dismal from the ground. I, however, was not prepared for the view on top. I was simply awestruck at the dazzling beauty of the pure white cloud tops

in Tennessee has provided the opportunity to meet some of these folks, among them Steven and Judith Oxman in Maryland, and their Beechcraft Super H18. Because of attending an event at the museum, we arranged that I would get to fly along in the Twin Beech instead of driving.

Weather diverted our course from direct to south and then westnorthwest. The trip south was done at a low altitude as cloud cover was

was sheer pleasure regardless of the convective ride. I was not anxious to stop flying, though I was glad to be in Tennessee, and Pratts like to eat.

Coming home I was again graciously given the chance to fly right seat. Again we flew weather, though this time with drier air. Scattered to broken cloud base at 6,000 feet MSL; we at 7,500 feet dancing amid the tops. Cloud formations stood like glistening statues watching si-

reflecting the bright sunlight, enthralled at what I imagined heaven must look like.

Because I fly a little rag-wing taildragger, I seldom get to experience that view since I have no need to get over the clouds in bad weather.

I just don’t fly then. Thrice this year I’ve flown places in other aircraft where we’ve had to fly weather— still VFR, but with conditions that required planning and IMC diversion. All three flights different. All three successful, but the last one will remain with me as a cherished memory.

I am fortunate to have met many fine folks in the aviation world.

The Beechcraft Heritage Museum

thick enough to avoid going on top. Once you’re up, you eventually have to come down. The question would have been where.

We a re able to f ly wes t at a higher altitude. Scattered clouds plus convection formed stormy buildups. The growing towers were magnificent, yet ominous. Since our path was directed by rising cumulous more than a GPS line, we succumbed to the rationale to descend below and trade smooth air for visibility.

Westward was also me happily flying right seat, learning to finesse control of the airplane with trim— and trim nicely it did. Sitting between two Pratt & Whitney R-985s

lently as we passed by.

Again I marveled at the majesty of it all, soaking in as much as I could of the landscape below, the cloud layers and the wisps that shared our altitude. I think it was impossible not to grin as I made the sweeping spiral descent down through a cloud break to take us home below the layer. The airplane felt good—smooth, and solid, and bigger than anything I’d flown, and satisfyingly sweet.

I’ll remember that trip for a long, long time. When life is discouraging and the clouds outside my window are right, in my mind I get in the airplane and go dancing in the cloud tops one more time.

40 AUGUST 2012

VINTAGE AIRCRAFT ASSOCIATION OFFICERS

President Geoff Robison 1521 E. MacGregor Dr. New Haven, IN 46774 260-493-4724 chief7025@aol.com

Steve Bender 85 Brush Hill Road Sherborn, MA 01770 508-653-7557 aaflagship@gmail.com David Bennett 375 Killdeer Ct Lincoln, CA 95648 916-952-9449 antiquer@inreach.com Jerry Brown 4605 Hickory Wood Row Greenwood, IN 46143 317-422-9366 lbrown4906@aol.com

Robert C. Brauer 9345 S. Hoyne Chicago, IL 60643 773-779-2105 photopilot@aol.com Gene Chase 8555 S. Lewis Ave., #32 Tulsa, OK 74137 918-298-3692

Enjoy the many benefits of the EAA Vintage Aircraft Association

Secretary Steve Nesse 2009 Highland Ave. Albert Lea, MN 56007 507-373-1674 Treasurer Dan Knutson 106 Tena Marie Circle Lodi, WI 53555 608-592-7224 lodicub@charter.net

Vice-President George Daubner N57W34837 Pondview Ln Oconomowoc, WI 53066 262-560-1949 gdaubner@eaa.org

DIRECTORS

Dave Clark 635 Vestal Lane Plainfield, IN 46168 317-839-4500 davecpd@att.net Phil Coulson 28415 Springbrook Dr. Lawton, MI 49065 269-624-6490 rcoulson516@cs.com Dale A. Gustafson 7724 Shady Hills Dr. Indianapolis, IN 46278 317-293-4430 dalefaye@msn.com Jeannie Hill P.O. Box 328 Harvard, IL 60033-0328 920-426-6110

DIRECTORS EMERITUS

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