Showing posts with label Navigation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Navigation. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Positive Identification

One of the oldest and most intense college football rivalries is between the University of Tennessee Volunteers in Knoxville, Tennessee and the University of Kentucky Wildcats in Lexington, Kentucky. The teams traditionally schedule the contest for the last game of the regular season and alternate locations. The tradition started in the nineteenth century and the 2011 game was the 106th game in the series. Tennessee hold a large lead in the number of wins but it is usually an exciting game in spite of the team's performance the rest of the season. In Lexington, a win over Tennessee makes it a winning season even if every other game is lost. Getting beat by Tennessee means a losing season; even if every other game is won.
When the Volunteers came to Lexington's Stoll Field for the 1953 game, they hadn't lost a game to Kentucky since 1935 although there had been two tie games. It was a nippy late November afternoon with a bright blue cloudless sky; a perfect day for football. To add to the excitement, the rumor (true) was already circulating that this would be the last regular season game for Kentucky head coach, Paul "Bear" Bryant. As the final minutes of the game clock ticked away, it seemed all 35,000 spectators were still glued to their seats in the stands because the big mechanical scoreboard read Kentucky 27 and Tennessee 20. When the final second ticked off the clock, it is reported that people on Main Street (three blocks away) heard the shout that rose from the stadium.
Hearing the cheers on Main Street may be an exaggeration, but another noise was heard that was not mistakable. As soon as the Kentucky players on the bench rushed to the middle of the field to congratulate their team mates, they instinctively ducked as a deafening roar and a swift shadow moved over the field. A World War II era P-51 Mustang fighter plane swooped out of the western sky and flew directly over the playing field. Witnesses reported that the wing tips only cleared the top of the goal posts by a few inches. People in the top rows of the stadium reported looking down at the airplane; not up at its belly. The aircraft disappeared to the east and then returned to make another pass over the field. This time it made what is called a knife edge pass where the wings are perpendicular to the ground instead of parallel. I have talked to pilots that were in the stands that day that swear on their grandma's virtue that the wing tips went between the uprights; like an aircraft field goal. The demonstration ended with a maneuver called a victory roll performed at a reasonable altitude of a hundred feet or so.
For the non-aircraft person reading this, P-51's like the one in the photograph were not unusual in 1953. Over 15,000 were manufactured during the World War II years and thousands of pilots were trained to fly them. They also were used in Korea and many reserve outfits still flew them in 1953 including one in Louisville, Kentucky only 80 miles away. Several were purchased as military surplus and flown as business and pleasure aircraft. Many persons that were pilots in the military had no desire to make flying their vocation after the war, but they still enjoyed flying as a means of personal and business transport. Today there are over 200 of them still registered in the US. Any major air show will feature a whole row of them.
At first most people assumed the fly by was done by the military at the request of the University, but those who knew anything about aircraft realized the paint scheme was civilian. None of the fraternities took credit for it so that possibility was ruled out. I'm sure 34,998 of the people in the stands thought it was a great finale to a great college football game. There are always one or two in the crowd that think that rules must be enforced all of the time; even when there is a good reason to break them like winning a football game. Because of these one or two folks, the FAA had to be notified and attempt to find this phantom aircraft and pilot. After all. a few FAA regulations had been bent fairly severely in the presence of 35,000 witnesses.
What follows is sheer speculation because I have not spoken to anyone privy to the FAA response. Buzz jobs at fairs, football games, and other outdoor venues were not all that rare in those years when the war was still fresh in everyone's memories. But a smart pilot only made one pass! Chances were that everyone would be too surprised to get the registration number off of the aircraft. In this case, after three passes, the aircraft was easily identified as one based at a small airport about 30 miles from Lexington. The owner's name was widely reported in the news the next day. It was quickly discovered that the owner was vacationing in Florida, so the aircraft was being flown by another pilot. Three other pilots were identified that occasionally flew the aircraft. All three had military combat experience in the type. I can just guess what the FAA investigator was facing.
FAA: Mr. Jones, were you flying N-12335 on November 21?
Mr. Jones: I can't remember.
FAA: Can you check your log book?
Mr. Jones: Oh sure. Let's see, here it is. I remember now. I flew over to Lexington and made a  few low passes over the football stadium.
If you believe that, I have some ocean front property in Arizona to show you.
Kentucky went to a post season bowl game and the buzz job was temporarily forgotten. I am guessing, that was OK with the FAA also. They were located at Bowman Field in Louisville and most of the staff were probably Kentucky football fans.
The story would end here except that in January, 1954 a newspaper reporter writing a recap of the 1953 football season mentioned the air show that Colonel Smith (fictitious name) put on after the Tennessee game. I have been told that he received a call from the FAA asking about his means of identifying the mystery pilot. He replied, "Shucks that weren't no problem. He's well known around here. I was up in the press box at the stadium and I could see his face plain as day when he flew by."
And that's the truth!
Bowinkle T. Propwash

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Defective Whiskey Compass

This story and variations has been told around airport loafing areas on rainy Sunday afternoons for at least fifty years. Now I'll tell you the real story because I knew the real people involved and was there the day it happened. I won't use real names even though both Tom and Kurt are dead now. It was going to be a cross-country dual flight flight from Greater Cincinnati (CVG) to Lexington (LEX) and return. The year was 1958 and there wasn't any Interstate 75 to use as a "navigation aid". When Tom, the student, and Kurt, the instructor, finished the preflight inspection of the Cessna 120; Tom informed Kurt that he really didn't need a $4 per hour instructor to find an airport that was less than 100 miles away. Kurt readily agreed but pointed out that FAA rules were FAA rules and he wasn't going to sign Tom off for cross-country solo until he was good and ready. This exchange was just semi-friendly but Tom knew he had to play by Kurt and the FAA's rules.

They took off and headed South towards Lexington. Of course I wasn't in the airplane but I heard the story the way Kurt told it and the way Tom told it. The points of view were different but the important facts pretty much the same. The story probably would have never been told except that another pilot on air taxi trip from Cincinnati to Frankfort saw the whole thing from the air and ratted them out.

The flight seemed normal and Kurt never said a word. Tom was doing a good job keeping the airplane on exactly the whiskey compass heading he calculated before take-off.  (The 120 didn't have a DG) The visibility was at least 25 miles and soon Tom announced he had the airport in sight. He called the control tower and was cleared to entered the traffic pattern. Lexington had very little traffic in 1958 and there was no Terminal Area Radar or transponder squawk codes. Tom entered the airport traffic pattern and reported to the control tower that he was downwind for the active runway. The control tower replied that they could not see him and asked for him to rock his wings. Tom rocked his wings but Kurt took over the microphone and informed the Lexington control tower that they had drifted off course to the west and would be making a landing at Frankfort airport. Frankfort airport did not have a control tower and Tom made a normal landing and taxied up to the ramp without saying a word.

I'm sure Kurt made some remark about how easy it was to find an airport less than 100 miles from home.  Frankfort airport is only about 25 miles west of Lexington airport and many pilots have confused the two. Not too many years ago, a Delta crew actually landed a DC-9 full of passengers at Frankfort thinking they were landing at Lexington. I can imagine the stewardess telling the passengers to keep their seat belt fastened until they were parked at the gate and then finding out that the gate was 25 miles away at a different airport.

I'm sure the flight from Frankfort back to Cincinnati was very humbling for Tom. Neither he or Kurt said a word as they came into the flight office to complete the post flight paperwork. Kurt asked me to go retrieve his jacket from the airplane. He had folded it carefully and put it on top on the instrument panel when they took off for Lexington. I noticed the jacket was real heavy and jokingly asked Kurt if he had rocks in the pockets. Kurt reached into the pocket and pulled out a large U-shaped magnet. "I've been told these things could really mess up the whiskey compass if they got too close to them."

And that's the truth!

Bowinkle T. Propwash