THE BLOG

When I was a young boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old, I would have to fetch the cows to bring them to the barn to milk.  It was always the same time every day.  At that same time, almost every day, an event that would take place that I thought was the greatest thing ever, a green airplane, a Cessna 337 Skymaster would fly over the ranch at a low altitude.  What it must be like to be able to fly and what sights one would be able to see from that vantage point, how the view would be so much better in that airplane than standing behind a half dozen cows going for their evening milking!

One afternoon I ask my grandpa if he knew who it was in that airplane.  He said, Hal Buttler.  Hal was the general manager at Fort Apache Timber Company in Whiteriver, Arizona.  As time went by, the intrigue of Hal flying over the ranch late every afternoon never got old. I would stop whatever I was doing and look up and wonder the same thing each time. One late summer afternoon when I was about 12 or 13 years old, my grandpa said he was going to the airport and get a cousin and his wife who were flying up to the mountains to visit us.  When he said they were flying up, I thought they were on an airplane as passengers.   When we arrived at the airport, the cousin was tying down the aircraft. 

The airplane was a Piper Cherokee 180.  Much smaller and only one engine compared to Hal’s 337 that had two engines in a centerline configuration.  But it was an airplane none the less, and I was so excited to get to touch it, smell it and explore all of its curves up close and personal!

After securing the airplane for the night, we all piled into the car and headed back to the ranch.  I could not contain my excitement, and I started asking questions. To my surprise, my cousin was more than happy to answer all of my dumb 12-year-old questions.  He explained to me how the air moving over the surface of the top of the wing at a different rate than the air going under the wing would create lift, how moving the controls inside would cause controls on the outside of the airplane to move to control it. Then came the most fabulous offer of my life, an invitation to go flying with him the next day! 

The anticipation, the butterflies in my stomach, and the mental images of what was in store for me were so great that I didn’t sleep that night.  Little did I know that my life and my dreams for my future would never be the same again.  Many boys at the age of 12 or 13 are battling raging hormones, I’m sure I was too, but my passion was for the airplane and not so much the girls. 

A year or so later, as I was eating, breathing and fantasizing about airplanes, I found out from a very close family friend who just happened to be a pilot, that there was a ground school being put on one night a week in the not so close town of Springerville about 45 miles away. 

He knew the instructor, and he knew my passion for the airplane. I went to my parents and told them that I wanted to attend this class.  You have to know that I had very little to virtually no interest in going to school up to this point. I ask my father if he could take me to the Ground School each week? He was so negative. He told me that it would be a waste of his time and money, that I would lose interest after a few weeks and it would never happen for me.

To this day I’m not sure why he said yes, because it would require him to drive me every Thursday night over the mountain 45 miles to go to school for two or three hours then back and he was so sure I would give up and not finish the class.

 I ate flying up!  I could not get enough airplane! The friend of the family that had told me about the Ground School in the first place had a coworker that was about to start taking flying lessons in Whiteriver Arizona and thought I should visit with him and the flight instructor and see if we could work something out for me to ride the 35 miles each Saturday morning with this fellow and then have him sit around and wait for my hour of flying lessons to be over before he could go back home after his hour lesson was over.

The instructor was initially concerned with my age. He did not think I was mature enough based on just my age but not prepared for my passion. I was fighting my father’s negative attitude and a flight instructor who did not feel I was mature enough to start flying at 14 years old but did not know me!

Aside from my age was another significant catch to all of this.  Who was going to pay for it?  When it came to money, my father was not going to invest, but as became a little more enthused about helping him with his part-time business building fence, he decided to exploit me. To make me work hard for flying before I lost interest and would also lose interest in working!  When it came to my age, well, there was just no way to speed that up.  You see, at the time, you had to be 15 to solo and 17 to hold a private pilot’s license.  I was still only 14 years old.

I would get up at 4:00 am and work until it was time to go to school, then work until dark after school to make enough money to earn another hour of flying time.  All winter 1973 and 74 I lived this schedule, then one evening in early spring 74, we were called to a family meeting around the kitchen table.  My father accepted a transfer and advancement for the electric Co-op he worked for full time, and we were moving!

Moving to Whiteriver Arizona was a big deal for us boys because we were going from a school that was a football powerhouse to one that almost did not have a football program and we would be a few of the only “white boys” in a school of nearly all Native American Indians!

The fence building jobs continued, but I wanted something to do that included airplanes!  As it turns out, one of the flight instructors that was giving me lessons was also the FBO and had just started an aviation business and had contracts with the government to fly fire patrols over the Reservation.  He was looking for a “gas boy” and guess who held his hand up high when he found out the job was available? Yep, I was going to make a significant career change at the ripe age of 14! 

I started working at the airport pumping gas, washing airplanes, and even got involved in working on the aircraft under the supervision of the mechanics.  The Whiteriver Arizona Airport was one of first Air Tanker bases in Arizona.  It was a bustling place in the summer, and I loved it.  I was rubbing elbows with world war II pilots flying B-17’s, PV-2’s, C-119’s, P2V’s and the Navy version of the B24 known as a PB4Y.  And if there was ever an excuse to get in the left seat with one of those pilots for a chance to fly the famous warbirds I was right there! 

Not many 14 or 15-year-olds had time in their logbooks in these great airplanes. It is signed off by some of the most excellent pilots of the time.  Some of them in their spare time were flying in the movies such as Tora-Tora-Tora and others. Herm Galegar, Don Hacket, Lee McCranie, and Jack Bettle are a few names in my first logbook who each thought me something that I still remember and use even today after 4o+ years of flying.  I owe a lot of what I am today to these great men. The willingness to teach, share their knowledge and their experiences with a 14 or 15-year-old kid, allow him to get behind the controls of such great airplanes.  Wow! 

Two weeks after my 16th birthday, I went to Prescott, Arizona, to take my check ride for my private pilots’ license.  It seemed to be only a technicality, as I had over 350 hours logged as a student pilot in so many different airplanes.  The examiner handed my license and said something I’ve always remembered; “this is only a license to learn.”  He said if I ever felt that I know it all or got too comfortable, I had better give up flying because that attitude would kill me. You see, he was right, and I’ve never stopped learning and refuse to get too comfortable in anything that I do.

Had I listened to or accepted what people were saying to me, or about me, telling me I was too young, I was too immature, or that I did not have the wear with all to finish what I started, I’m not sure where I would be today.   

I went on to join the US Air Force and spent four years as an Air Traffic Controller.  A job that I enjoyed.  I became a firefighter and was very involved in Fire Aviation as a carrier fighting forest fires with aircraft. I had many other side jobs, and I even ran a few successful businesses on the side when I was a firefighter.

My success in life and business has been a result of my experience as a very young man in aviation.  It taught me that ANYTHING is possible and to not listen to the naysayers, even if one happens to be your father! Another is the ability to make decisions! Aviation taught me that you MUST make a decision, even if it’s not the best one at the time, making a decision will buy you time and give you a chance to think about a better one! Making no decision will kill you!  It taught me to decide on the spot, don’t overthink it, make the decision, and then adjust as necessary.

It has helped me in life, has helped me in business, and even helped me raise my kids, getting started in aviation at such an early age was a great blessing.  Nothing molded me into what I am today and taught me more precious lessons that I use every day than aviation.