Flying the Callair!

What a beautiful weekend for flying in the mountains!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWRQOpGYqvg

OK. What now?

Well, it's here. Richard and I flew from the Western North Carolina Air Museum to Avery County last Saturday and picked up the Callair. Ryan has been working with FAA and vendors to see about a new and different set of brakes for me, only because I'm a little edgy about the old Goodyears. There have been an awful lot of delays, so we decided the airplane needed to be flown more than it needed a change in brake systems. SO here it is now, perched in front of the hangar and therefore first in line to be airborne.

Here's the view looking backward into the depths of the hangar ... Cliff's LongEZ is in the back, disassembled in storage for now ... The Cub is just biding its time, waiting its turn to fly ... 

The Callair's baggage compartment has access from the cabin but a modification to add a battery in the 60s resulted in this access panel on the side - very handy for servicing control cables, Emergency Locator Transmitters, and so on. 

 Looking from that access panel, first left toward the tail, then right, the inside of the fuselage is really clean. I didn't find any rust or corrosion even in the far reaches of the tail, even though there are signs of water accumulation.

The instrument panel is as original as they come. The major improvement, if you can call it that, is a turn and slip indicator. The airplane didn't come with that as originally built. Funny thing, once settled in the cockpit for the first time I felt as if I'd been there forever. It's a very friendly airplane to fly, light as a feather on the controls - unlike the Cub - and a good 15-20 miles per hour faster. I have yet to take a long enough flight to get a good set of numbers for speeds, power settings, and so on. 

The Interstate Cadet, which is the type certificate for this airplane, was originally designed as a trainer and liaison airplane for the military at the outbreak of WWII. The Army didn't deploy any to the theatres of combat because the airplanes were significantly more expensive than the military versions of the Piper, Stinson, Taylorcraft and Aeronca liaison airplanes. Some of the airplanes built for the military were sent to South America on Lend-Lease. The civilian models of the Cadet were used extensively in the Civilian Pilot Training Program and the design survives today, re-engined and beefed up here and there, as the Arctic Tern.

The flaking paint shows some shiny bare aluminum. 

This airplane was always civilian and was built for Mr. Reuel Call, a trucking executive and airplane manufacturer in Afton, Wyoming. Mr. Call bought the Interstate Cadet type certificate and produced two of the design: The first one, built in 1950, came before the Calls owned the TC and shows on ancient FAA papyrus as an Interstate; the second, my airplane, was built after the TC was acquired and is, thus, the one and only "Callair S1A". This is the only one flying; I was once told the other Call-built airframe is being restored in Alaska. The others of the type certificate, no matter their various names, are tough birds with a solid reputation as good bush airplanes.

More later.

Rick’s Fairchild – a follow up

When you start on your next airplane restoration project, remember there is a beginning (which is easy), a middle (which isn’t), and an end, which is supposed to be a lot of fun. The beginning of this particular  project involved a measure of casting a wide net for available airplanes in various stages of restoration, good friends keeping an eye out for likely candidates, and pure dumb luck. All these things came together when Rick Thompson found his 1934 Fairchild Model 24 C8C in Soldatna Alaska (see “Alex in Treasure Land”, June 2010).

These are pictures of pictures, posted on Rick’s jig that serve to remind him of where he’s been and how he’s doing.

Never let it be said that restoring an airplane is easy. Even though almost all the parts are there, it’s not like the Revell model airplane kit you put together as a youngster. It’s not even like your Van’s RV kits of the present day. More the case, it’s like stripping, disassembling, cataloging, then a very long period of fixing what has to be fixed, prepping, priming, finding and/or building a lot of parts, some of which are described in very hard to find books on dusty shelves somewhere, some of which aren’t, then putting the whole thing back together again. The parts for which there is no description have to be duplicated from parts on surviving airplanes, if you can find one. Others are fabricated using the T.L.A.R. principle (That Looks About Right). If you happen to be Rick, you just search and re-search until you find what you need, then whip out your magic tools and knock out, say, a glove box for your 1934 Fairchild Model 24 C8C. They don’t carry those at AutoZone.

The payoff after fitting and holding your mouth just right is that smile after Rick is satisfied that the new glove box is just right!

See the picture of the picture of the instrument panel in the first row above? That old Scintilla magneto switch had to be restored and rebuilt. Ditto the overhead elevator trim indicator … and how about those rudder pedals?

At some point, the light will begin to gleam at the end of the tunnel and all the pieces of the puzzle  will come together in an actual airplane. Until then, dear friends, stay tuned …..

Rick, Rosa and son John. Nice people.

Regrets, I've had a few ...

I have a few regrets, mostly about things left undone, and one of those is that I did not get to sit down with Jim Schultz. We had talked several times about my driving over to Miami from Clearwater but we did not connect except over the telephone. Jim died on May 24, 2012, a month after his 94th birthday.

Jim's best friend growing up in New Jersey was Bob Dietze. Bob was a copilot for American Airlines when World War II broke out. Jim Schultz began his pilot training after Bob and was hired by American a couple of weeks before Pearl Harbor. When the war began, there was a shortage of trained pilots and the airlines were an obvious source. Bob volunteered for the Air Transport Command and eventually volunteered again for a more hazardous mission - to be sent to India in August, 1943, to fly supplies over the "Hump" - the Himilayan Mountains - to our allies in China. He lasted 10 days in abysmal conditions until his C-87 (the cargo version of the B-24) crashed after losing both engines on one side, on takeoff. Jim Schultz lost two friends that day. He had introduced the Captain on Bob's last flight to the woman who was the Captain's wife.

Jim's passing leaves a bit of a hole in my heart; he was the last connection of his generation I had with my wife's father, John A. Dietze, a man I admired greatly and who missed his brother, Bob, all his life - as did Jim Schultz.

They are together now. 

Happy Landings, Jim.

The Great American Cubs & Classics Fly-In Barbecue – a review

What can I write? The weather was forecast to be perfect, the winds pleasantly quiet, the skies clear. What could possibly go wrong?

President Don of the Western North Carolina Air Museum cranked up the John Deere and mowed, and mowed, and mowed … Stan and Kathy arrived the night before to stake their claim to the #1 parking spot – Richard was there to greet them.

All was in readiness ... then the Head Weather Guy stepped in. We awoke to red skies – you know the adage: Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. Yep, it’s true. We had lowering clouds, fog, low ceilings ... all of which normally lift by about 10am. Didn't this time, though … grey skies all day.

Cub and  Classic Flyers are not to be daunted, however. We had, all in all, 8 Cubs that flew in, 2 Stearmans, 2 Cessna 180s, a Cessna 195, a Fairchild 24W, an Aeronca Champ and a classic straight-tail 172. Sixteen airplanes, plus several friends who drove their land yachts due to the weather.

By 10:30 or 11am our spirits lifted considerably – seeing all that yellow and meeting some great people made our day! Cubs from as far away as York SC, Gainesville GA and eastern TN made the trek for some really fine barbecue. Click on the pictures below to see a larger version.

The Guest of Honor:

For a video recap, click on the YouTube link below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsNAYH3ts2g

The First Saturday in May

Today, being the First Saturday in May and, therefore, Kentucky Derby Day, I give you:

The Mint Julep

The Mint Julep, a distinctive Southern drink, popular in the ante bellum South right up through modern times, is a mixture of water, sugar, mint leaves and, above all, bourbon whiskey. While it can be purchased today in modern drinking establishments in the South, those served there bear little resemblance to those served in the home. The serving of this elixir to family and guests on a hot summer afternoon was, and is, accomplished with the greatest fanfare and flourish to show respect for those receiving it. It is as much of a ceremony as it is a drink.
The following is a copy of a letter from Lieutenant General Simon Bolivar Buckner, Jr., USA [(VMI-1906, West Point-1908) killed on Okinawa June 18, 1945] to Major General William D. Connor, [Superintendent of the United States Military Academy at West Point] dated March 30, 1937. Buckner Jr. was the son of General Simon Bolivar Buckner of the Confederate army who surrendered Fort Donelson to General Grant, thus giving Grant his nickname of "Unconditional Surrender" Grant. This letter clearly demonstrates the esteem in which a "Mint Julep" is held:

My Dear General Connor:

Your letter requesting my formula for mixing mint juleps leaves me in the same position in which Captain Barber found himself when asked how he was able to carve the image of an elephant from a block of wood. He said that it was a simple process consisting merely of whittling off the part that didn't look like an elephant.

The preparation of the quintessence of gentlemanly beverages can be described only in like terms. A mint julep is not a product of a formula. It is a ceremony and must be performed by a gentleman possessing a true sense of the artistic, a deep reverence for the ingredients and a proper appreciation of the occasion. It is a rite that must not be entrusted to a novice, a statistician nor a Yankee. It is a heritage of the Old South, and emblem of hospitality, and a vehicle in which noble minds can travel together upon the flower-strewn paths of a happy and congenial thought.

So far as the mere mechanics of the operation are concerned, the procedure, stripped of its ceremonial embellishments, can be described as follows:

Go to a spring where cool, crystal-clear water bubbles from under a bank of dew-washed ferns. In a consecrated vessel, dip up a little water at the source. Follow the stream thru its banks of green moss and wild flowers until it broadens and trickles thru beds of mint growing in aromatic profusion and waving softly in the summer breeze. Gather the sweetest and tenderest shoots and gently carry them home. Go to the sideboard and select a decanter of Kentucky Bourbon distilled by a master hand, mellowed with age, yet still vigorous and inspiring. An ancestral sugar bowl, a row of silver goblets, some spoons and some ice and you are ready to start.

Into a canvas bag pound twice as much ice as you think you will need. Make it fine as snow, keep it dry and do not allow it to degenerate into slush. Into each goblet, put a slightly heaping teaspoonful of granulated sugar, barely cover this with spring water and slightly bruise one mint leaf into this, leaving the spoon in the goblet. Then pour elixir from the decanter until the goblets are about one-fourth full. Fill the goblets with snowy ice, sprinkling in a small amount of sugar as you fill. Wipe the outside of the goblets dry, and embellish copiously with mint.

Then comes the delicate and important operation of frosting. By proper manipulation of the spoon, the ingredients are circulated and blended until nature, wishing to take a further hand and add another of its beautiful phenomena, encrusts the whole in a glistening coat of white frost.

Thus harmoniously blended by the deft touches of a skilled hand, you have a beverage eminently appropriate for honorable men and beautiful women.

When all is ready, assemble your guests on the porch or in the garden where the aroma of the juleps will rise heavenward and make the birds sing. Propose a worthy toast, raise the goblets to your lips, bury your nose in the mint, inhale a deep breath of its fragrance and sip the nectar of the gods.

Being overcome with thirst, I can write no further.

Sincerely, Lt. Gen. S.B. Buckner, Jr. VMI Class of 1906

Go forward, friends, and rejoice.

The Call of the Air

I confess to a certain weakness when it comes to the underdogs. Having been one myself, especially in my teenage years, I know underdogs possess unknown qualities which must be discovered, one at a time, over time. Thus when an email arrived from a fellow Cub owner accompanied by a brochure for an unusual airplane that happened to be for sale practically in my back yard, I began peeling back the layers to see what might be what.

At first, it looked like a Cub with a glandular condition. What the heck? It’s not a Cub. Look at that gear. Look at the windows. What about the shape of that windscreen? This is not a Cub. It is one thing: “Unusual” and in need of work.

There is no mystery. This is an Interstate Cadet. But not. This is a Callair S1A, a successor to the Interstate Cadet. But maybe not. The genealogy of the design is a bit complicated and I’m just beginning the research to pin down exactly what I have. The design was sold to the Call family of Afton, Wyoming, in 1952 after languishing through another owner. The Calls bought the design as much for the stock of steel tubing and hardware for their other designs as for the airplane itself . One firsthand source revealed that the Calls never built one of these S1A airplanes from scratch themselves; the S1A that was badged as a “Callair” airplane was essentially rebuilt from older Interstate airframes. I do know this: The Continental 90HP engine was an option attributed to the Call family’s ownership of the design, and the recently-overhauled engine on the airplane is the engine that was originally listed with this “Callair” airframe.

Whatever it is, and wherever this research takes me I know this: I won’t run out of projects any time soon. Frumpy or not, they say it’s a great flying airplane … and you can definitely put lipstick on a pig.
I’ll keep you posted.

(or whatever)

Getting the word out – let there be Bar-B-Q !!

Oh boy, this is going to be fun! A couple of us were just thinking one day that it might be a lot of fun to have some barbecue and some friends in for a day of R&R Cub-style. Then the idea began to grow

We have no idea if this thing will go over or not. If nobody shows up at least we won’t go hungry.

C’mon y’all. Let’s go flying!

Flying video and Cub pilots’ Barbecue May 12, 2012

I’d been looking for a way to record my flying adventures without breaking the bank and ran across a pair of sunglasses with a built-in DVR at a trade show. I paid too much – that’s what happens when you find something new and cool that you’ve never seen before. On the upside, when my costly pair had an intermittent audio problem the U.S. seller handled a replacement quickly and without any hassle at all.

I’ve since found that these things can be bought on eBay … just search for “DVR sunglasses” and a lot will pop up. At this early stage in the product cycle I found a few auctions that were just about ready to close without reserve and with no bids! I ordered a couple of pairs and a couple of keychain DVRs for essentially the cost of shipping. Hope they work.

Cub Fly-In Barbecue at the Western North Carolina Air Museum field (Hendersonville NC) on May 12. Be there or be square. No Cubs will be barbecued and hopefully none will be harmed in this production. Other types welcome, of course.

Them’s the brakes – and thanks for friends

One of the really nifty things I enjoy as a Cub owner is other Cub owners, particularly Cub owners who know how to do stuff and don’t mind teaching me how to do the little maintenance things that keep my airplane in the air. I’ve been doofus-ing around for over a month about how my brakes were going kerflooey (note the pilot talk here) and inherited a set of master cylinder diaphragms from Grizzly Stan across the mountains to fix them, but hadn’t mustered up the courage to tackle the job on my own. I looked, talked to several Cub guys about it, thought I’d have to fabricate some inspection/maintenance ports on the underside of the fuselage, when Stan offered to fly over and help me (by doing the work) get back in the air.

Stan Dove right in. One of the telephone advisors suggested just taking the master cylinder apart in situ but I thought that would entail a lot of bending that I just don’t do anymore. I wanted to take the master cylinder out of the airplane (therefore the idea about cutting new inspection/maintenance panels in the belly) but Stan took one look and said we could pull them out without having to go to too much trouble so that’s what we did. I have to write this about Stan: He’s an optimist. And it proved true; the master cylinders were easy to remove. I think I could do it again provided I had someone there to roll under the belly of the airplane and hold my nuts … wait a minute – did that come out right?

The master cylinder is really simple. The assembly is divided by a diaphragm – on the dry side, the brake pedal pushes on a plunger that pushes against the diaphragm – on the other (wet) side is the brake fluid that squirts through tubing into the old-fashioned expansion brakes and causes the Piper Cub to careen somewhat less dramatically down the runway (or almost holds the airplane in place while doing a magneto check before takeoff). I exaggerate – the old brakes work pretty well as long as the diaphragm is in one piece. When they split, diaphragms don’t keep the wet and dry sides separate and you know what happens then … unintended consequences. Above, the split in the diaphragm and the reinstalled product, ready to fly.

This is Stan – happy that the job is over and ready for a taco salad.

The next thing is for me to fly over to his side of the mountains and from there to who knows where?