Letter to the Editor . . .

[NickDG 23]

Oceanside airport, a small field north of San Diego, is under a concerted attack from the local wags who hate aviation. And they almost have the city talked into paying back the FAA improvement monies that would finally clear the way to closing the airport. I worked at that airport for many years and so wrote the below to the local newspaper. It probably won't get printed, but since I had fun writing it, I thought someone should see it so here it is . . .

NickD
So, What Really Goes on at Oceanside Airport?

Dig a little and you'll find characters like 94-year old Captain Eddie. A long retired airline captain who, after losing his medical clearance to fly, locked himself away in one of the hangars for two years and built himself a small airplane he could fly without the FAA's blessing. I'd often pass his closed hangar door and hear him banging away on pieces of metal. On the plane's maiden flight instead of lifting off it plowed right through the fence at the end of runway 24 in a cloud of dust and debris. We raced to the scene expecting the worst but out of the weeds comes Captain Eddie, bleeding and bruised, and dragging a now tailless fuselage behind him. When we said we’d help him Captain Eddie demurred, "I got it down here and I'll get it back," So back he towed it, slammed the hangar doors shut, and we all heard him go right back to banging on pieces of metal.

Or the young Southwest co-pilot who, to make some extra money, decided to go into the aerial burial business. He built a small metal box he could attach to the underside of his plane to hold the ashes of the departed. And the cable that passed into the cockpit to control the lid of the box. A small advert in the local paper soon brought the first customer. Uncle Frank was even delivered by Hearse right to the airport. With about twenty of Uncle Frank's family members lining the runway the aircraft started down the runway. It was a perfect day for it, the beginnings of golden sunset sweeping over the ocean where Uncle Frank would spend his eternity, a day Uncle Frank would have loved. But as the aircraft passed by the already sobbing mourners the lid on the box sprang open and Uncle Frank was unceremoniously dumped all over the runway and blown away in the plane's propeller blast. It took awhile, but that one eventually became funny, like things like that do.

And then the two boyhood friends, now both in their forties. In high school they built a Piper Cub from parts purchased piecemeal with money from odd jobs after school. And they flew that Cub out of Oceanside for the next 25 years. Only one of them never bothered to get a pilot's license. When that fact came to light he agreed to get his license and the following year he was killed taking a FAA mandated bi-annual check flight. The irony in that one was lost on no one.

There was the fellow who taught me how to fly. He wore cowboy boots and the same leather jacket he wore flying fighter planes in WWII. He had a calmness that only comes from seeing it all and when I did something poorly in the cockpit he'd just give me a look that spoke volumes. One day we were both standing outside the flight school waiting for the plane we were to use. It was up with another student and instructor. "Oh, they're into something." It was one of the longer sentences I'd heard him utter, but my surprise is short lived as I looked up and saw our Cessna doing wild gyrations in the sky. To my eye I surmised something on the aircraft broke and this was going to be bad. But slowly and surly control was restored and the craft made a smooth landing. Once parked the student jumped out and ran passed us for the parking lot and a white as a sheet instructor approached us. "He opened the door and tried to jump out! It was all I could do to hold him in and keep the plane under control. The crazy SOB tried to jump!" I looked over at my mentor and all he said was, "You ready?"

There was old Bud, the helicopter pilot and mechanic. With a story for every occasion he was the grouchy lovable type and an airport fixture. He enlisted my aid one day to check the rotor blades on a helicopter he was working on. "I'm going to start it up. You stand on this wooden box and then just touch this piece of cardboard to the edge of the rotor blades as they go by." I said, "Are you out of your mind?" And he replied, "No, it's the only way to see if each blade is following the same track through the air. If we get two marks on the cardboard they'll need adjusting." He got me when he added, "There's nothing to it." But that was certainly one of the scariest things I've ever done. A few weeks later Bud is down on a fishing boat in San Diego Harbor. They had a helicopter on board they used to spot the fish and Bud was doing the maintenance on it. Lifting off the boat for a test flight Bud forget to undo one of the tie-down straps and the craft tipped over, burst into flames, and it killed him.

There was the beautiful young girl who started her flying carrier in the co-pilot's seat of Deutsch's twin turboprop King Air. She went on to become a 747 Captain with a major airline. There was Murray, who rebuilt and restored a particular kind of aircraft still used throughout the world for bush and jungle operations. There are people in Kenya, and other far flung places, who know where Oceanside is purely because of Murray. There was the doctor who instead of eating lunch spent his only free hour flying his beloved vintage Beechcraft around the pattern of Oceanside airport. And he was this same doctor who gave me a free exam that found the cancer inside me in time to save my life. There was Levy, who built one of the first slick fiberglass airplanes to come out which won awards at every air show he visited. Levy had an odd sense of humor and one night he burst into the hangar we were working in and yelled, "I've had it with you guys!" And sprayed us with blanks from a semi-automatic assault rifle. Luckily that night we only died laughing.

There was Moe and his wife who opened their hangar every Wednesday evening to all comers. The ladies brought potluck and we fellows would have a few beers. Aviation stories were told and re-told by both young and old and even the obvious fibs would have us rolling on the floor in tears of laughter. And as the oldest became more so, every once in a while there was a new empty chair. But Moe, already in his sixties, would go on what he used to call Safari. Filling the fuel tanks of his airplane he set out in a random direction and then just set down at whatever airport was nearby when his fuel ran low. And he always came back with a new story or two.

Yes, Oceanside airport is just a collection of old metal buildings when seen from outside the fences. But it's a place of births and deaths, of triumphs and tragedies, of joy, laughter, and tears, a small aviation cog in a system of airports in a country where a person is still free to fly a machine from one place to another. It's a place to be celebrated, and more importantly, protected because it's a place that breeds people not afraid of lives full of fun and adventure. So here's to the next generation of Captain Eddies, to the high school dreamers, to those on their way to airline jobs, to the patient underpaid flight instructors, to the pranksters, and to the near-do-wells. The fabric of our otherwise mundane lives would be so much lesser so without them . . .

[JohnRich 4]

Wow. That was wonderful!

My only suggestion would be that since your lobbying to KEEP the airport, that maybe you could tone down the stories about crazy people and dangerous flying.

Great stuff.

[BillyVance 35]

Quote

Wow. That was wonderful!

My only suggestion would be that since your lobbying to KEEP the airport, that maybe you could tone down the stories about crazy people and dangerous flying.

Great stuff.

Good letter, I agree. Does the newspaper have a limit on how long it can be? My newspaper has a 200 word limit. I've sent 5 or 6 letters to the editor over the years and 4 got published.

"Mediocre people don't like high achievers, and high achievers don't like mediocre people." - SIX TIME National Champion coach Nick Saban

[NickDG 23]

I took that into consideration, and you could be right, but I believe that in the truth of things is a certain beauty. And believe me I did leave out some stuff that makes what I did write seem tame.

I didn't want it to be a puff piece, but yeah maybe I under did the puff . . .

NickD

[ACMESkydiver 0]

What a beautiful piece of writing there, Nick.

~Jaye
Do not believe that possibly you can escape the reward of your action.

[airtwardo 7]

Hats off to ya Bro!

~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

[futuredivot 0]

I have to agree with JR about the tone of the story. But it is well worth printing in some aviation magazines, and would get a much more appreciative audience there

You are only as strong as the prey you devour

[airtwardo 7]

You can READ?!

~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

[futuredivot 0]

i can rede and rit and do sums too

You are only as strong as the prey you devour

[NickDG 23]

I heard from the editor of the local paper early this morning, a nice fellow that seems to be a closet airport supporter, but he said the same thing you all said, he loved it but thought it was too deathy.

He said he didn't want to butcher it for publication, so that's the end of that.

Funny though, I've worked at plenty of airports that have similar stories, in fact they all do.

Are we going down the wrong road in rationing out the truth?

NickD

[DavidB 0]

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Are we going down the wrong road in rationing out the truth?

NickD

You're old enough to know the answer.

BTW, like a drum solo at a 1970's rock concert, you KNEW that was coming, KNEW you wouldn't like it, & KNEW there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it!

Here's a thought: Why not start your own series of airport stories here? Post a new one every week or two. You KNOW we would enjoy & appreciate it!

When the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.

[Lastchance 0]

Great read. I love stories like that.

I may be getting old but I got to see all the cool bands.