Air Carolina, Part 3

By Ellis M. Chernoff

Photo credit as noted.

Flying the line for Air Carolina was a full-time job. For our salary, we were expected to cover scheduled flights six days per week and at least three round-trips per shift. Flying extra flights and a seventh day were not uncommon, but, did get pilots some extra pay. My preferred shift was the afternoon, giving me the morning to get personal stuff done. I also enjoyed night flying. When flying the Piper Navajos and Chieftains at night, you could see the glow of the exhaust system through a cowling grill. You could almost tell the fuel mixture and exhaust temperature by observing the brightness of the glowing pipes.

I also enjoyed hanging out with the night maintenance crew after I completed the last flight of the night and locked up the small airline terminal. With my prior experience working on general aviation planes and engines, I spoke the language of the technicians, and they enjoyed my company and insight into their work.

In addition to the fleet previously described, we also acquired an early production Britten-Norman BN-2A Islander. This plane had the same pilot plus nine passenger seat capacity as the Chieftain, but instead of two 350 HP engines, it had two 260 HP Lycomings like the Cherokee Six did.  A fat wing gave it plenty of lift, but it had fixed landing gear and was not much faster than the Cherokee. It was also cramped and loud, and did not have air conditioning. Waiting for takeoff clearance one hot summer afternoon, a lady in the back called out, “Hey Mister Pilot, turn on the air conditioning!”  She thought I was being cheap and not running it. I replied the plane didn’t have air conditioning, and she should be able to see that I was soaked in sweat just like everyone else. The Islander was generally on the Hickory-Charlotte run, so I only flew it occasionally.

We also acquired a late-model PA-34RT-300 Lance II. It was brand new on lease and had six very plush seats. Its handling characteristics were a bit strange compared to a Cherokee Six or older Lance models due to its “T-tail” configuration. Takeoffs were particularly tricky.

In 1978, I was tasked to be a charter manager in addition to my line flying duties. I would take phone calls and quote and schedule on-demand charters. Most of these flights were within the Carolinas and occasionally to Atlanta Hartsfield Airport. We had one pilot whose job was to fly these flights, which were often spur-of-the-moment affairs.

One day in October 1978, I was called in before my regular afternoon/evening runs to fly an extra section to Charlotte. For this flight, I drew the T-tailed Lance. After shutting down the engine in Charlotte, I would normally deplane the passengers and transfer their baggage to the connecting airline. Instead, I was met by a pilot who said a phone call had come in that the plane was needed back in Florence ASAP for a charter. So I flew the empty plane back to Florence as possible. 

Arriving back at home base, the boss jumped up and opened the door and said, “How would you like to make a quick hundred bucks?  We can’t find the charter pilot, and we already told the customer the plane was on the way to pick up cargo in Henderson.” While this was going on, the mechanics were removing the seats in the rear of the plane. I was told the cargo was going to Owasso, Michigan.  Charts were being brought to me and I had no time to plan anything. I fired up and took off toward Henderson, and arriving there, the cargo was waiting. “What took so long? What time will you get to Owasso?” While I started off in the direction of the destination, I had to figure out the routing while flying. And the weather was deteriorating, so changing from VFR to IFR was necessary.

Landing in Owasso, I was again greeted with “What took so long?  Here’s your return load, and when will you land in Henderson?” By now it was dark with hours remaining to fly. Again, I had to fly through a weather front with clouds and rain. At around 10:30pm, I broke out to clear skies with partial moonlight.  The aircraft, still with less than 300 hours total time, was running perfectly.

Over West Virginia, I left radar services with ATC and was now in the airspace of Pulaski Airport and their control tower. Still operating under Instrument Flight Rules, I made a position report a few minutes past 11pm. Suddenly, the noisy fan up front went to a whisper. It only took seconds for me to realize that there were no indications on the instruments of engine trouble, and I had not done anything to cause the engine to suddenly quit. Of course, there are emergency procedures to perform and get the airplane to a stable glide.

Slowing to the prescribed glide speed, the automatic extension system for the landing gear activated, greatly increasing my descent rate. Piper provided an emergency override that I used to get the landing gear back in the retracted position. I had been cruising at 7000 feet, and by now I had declared an emergency with Pulaski approach control. They seemed stunned to hear my call and cleared me to 6000 feet, the lowest altitude they could assign given the Appalachian Mountains below me. My reply was “That’s nice, I’m out of 5 and a half.” I couldn’t maintain any altitude and was sure death was only a few minutes away.

When I did get quite low to the ground, I spotted an open farm field. I had continued in vain to restore power from the engine. I turned on the landing light and set the plane down on its belly. But I did slide beyond the barbed wire fence and through some trees, stopping just short of a steep hill leading down to a creek. The strobe lights were still flashing and I could still hear static in the headset. But there was also a strong smell of gasoline as three of the four fuel tanks had ruptured. While I felt no pain, I had a bloody open cut on my chin from the broken windscreen.

I got out and assessed my situation. As there was no fire, I went looking for the first aid kit that should have been in the cabin. It had been removed along with the seats that afternoon in Florence. My Boy Scout training told me not to wander off, but to stay with the wreck; I hunkered down for the night, expecting to be rescued sometime soon.

Without going into detail, many people dropped the ball that night and as a result, no rescue effort was underway. In fact, everyone except me had a full night’s sleep. Even the control tower staff filled out their paperwork, closed up shop, and went home. I had filed FAA flight plans with emergency contact information, but no one thought to look for that when I went down after declaring the emergency.

Things were better for me the next morning. I was taken to a local hospital. I had a phone conversation with my employer and they said they were sending a plane to get me. The FAA and NTSB sent investigators to the crash site, and I also went to the site to assist in my own accident investigation. The following day, I was given a hero’s welcome and all of my fellow pilots expressed the thought that I was probably the only one among them who could have survived a night forced landing in the mountains.

The technical investigation did not reveal the exact cause of the engine failure. But off the record, the NTSB investigator did admit there had been other occurrences on this aircraft type with the particular ignition system that was unique for a single-engine type. More disturbing was that had I been killed, they would have ruled it was pilot mismanagement of the fuel. That would have been totally false. Since there were no fatalities, no official cause was determined, and my crash became merely a hull loss statistic. The insurance company replaced the airplane for the owner with a used one and a check for the difference in value. He was happy.

Other adventures occurred during my two years with Air Carolina, but I will close out this retelling. By mid-1979, the major airlines were hiring again. Since they had not done so for quite some time, a cottage industry had developed where pilots seeking airline jobs would have to purchase their own training for a flight engineer certificate. Most airlines at that time operated the Boeing 727 with the flight engineer written exam based on that type. To be competitive, a prospect needed to not only to pass the flight engineer written exam, but also to complete the entire training course and pass the FAA check-ride in that crew position. Most of the pilots senior to me had left to pursue that path, and ultimately, I did the same.

Air Carolina, Part 2

By Ellis M. Chernoff

All Photos by the Author

Air Carolina, along with a number of other “Commuter Airlines”, entered into marketing agreements with major trunk air carriers. While some adopted the branding of the major, such as Allegheny, others retained their independent identity. Air Carolina offered ticketing and baggage on connections with all of the carriers operating at Charlotte Douglas Airport (CLT), but the closest relationship was with Eastern Airlines. Over ninety percent of Air Carolina’s passengers would be making connections with Eastern.

At the time, Eastern operated five banks of flights to and from major cities from a regional hub at CLT.  Oddly enough, these arrival and departure times dictated the published schedules of Air Carolina flights from Florence, S.C., and Hickory, N.C. The minimum connection times for a published connecting flight was 30 minutes. Therefore, the Air Carolina flight must be scheduled to arrive 30 minutes before the first departing Eastern Airlines flight. Likewise, the Air Carolina departure from CLT had to allow for 30 minutes after the last arrival of the Eastern flights. As a result, the published flight times had nothing to do with the actual flying time between the outstations and Charlotte!

At the time I worked there, the Air Carolina fleet consisted of PA-31-350 Chieftains, PA-31-310 Navajos, a PA-23-250 Aztec F, a PA-34-200 Seneca I, PA-32-260 Cherokee Six’s, a PA-28R-200 Arrow, and a PA-28-180 Warrior. Later a BN-2A Islander was added. 

There was no internet back in the 1970s, so telephones were used in the reservation department.  Reservations for each flight were handwritten on pages in 3-ring binders. The “reservation center” consisted of a small room in the hangar with a large glass window that looked like a fishbowl. We had four ladies who took the calls and booked the seats in the binders located on a lazy susan. Usually, two or three reservations agents were on duty at any given time.

The agents could book 21 confirmed seats on the five daily departures and return flights from Florence.  I recall the planes had a capacity of between three and nine passengers, depending upon the type. For each flight, there would be a lead pilot, several backup pilots standing by, and a mix of available planes.  The lead pilot would have to determine which plane, or planes, would be used depending upon the reservations in each direction and the passengers who would show up.  If a full twenty-one passengers were expected out of Florence, the first plane to be loaded and dispatched would hold the fewest number of seats and be the slowest. The Piper Warrior might go, followed by two Chieftains. If only 10 passengers were booked in both directions, two five-seat planes or one eight-seater plus a three-seater might go.

All of this made an appearance of a flying circus to the uninitiated passenger. Not only did each of the pilots need to be qualified and capable of flying any plane in the fleet, but they also had to load and unload the baggage and passengers personally. All flights were flown single-pilot, and the FAR 135 rules dictated duty and rest hours as well as weather criteria en route and at the destination, that was more restrictive than the general FAR 91 rules. There were times when no passengers could be carried, due to the weather, but the flights would position for the next scheduled leg. Hopefully, the weather would improve to allow a revenue flight.

Gate agents were only employed at Florence and Hickory. In Charlotte, the pilots manned the ticket counter, selling and pulling tickets, tagging baggage or receiving interline transfer bags, making PA announcements, and escorting the passengers to the plane. Again, for the initiated, seeing the “ticket agent” jumping into the pilot seat must have been a surprise. The Charlotte counter also had a telephone, but it was locked up and unmanned between flights. The company also maintained a P.O. Box at the Charlotte airport.

Flights were generally operated under Visual Flight Rules (VFR). At the time, neither Florence nor Hickory had radar for their approach control.  En route, ATC did not have radar coverage below about 7,000 feet.  While an Instrument Flight Rules (IFR) operation was allowable, it could result in more than doubling the block-to-block time and result in many passengers missing their connecting flights. Therefore, instrument clearances were only obtained when necessary. During many months, thunderstorms prevailed in the Carolinas, and a great deal of experience and expertise was gained visually dodging showers and severe conditions. Only a few of the planes had weather radar. We learned to correlate the radar displayed conditions with what we could observe out of the windscreen. This valuable experience would stand me in good stead throughout my future career. One time, I flew a load of passengers through a hundred miles of tornado warning safely and didn’t even know about the severe weather alert.

During my time at Air Carolina, I endeavored to improve several aspects of the operation. As I described the weight and balance process in Part 1, I considered this totally bogus. This, combined with the standard fuel loading in practice with what I arrived at, resulted in nearly every flight departing significantly overloaded. To reduce the exposure to overloading, I examined the actual fuel consumption and requirements to reduce the fuel burden when conditions were favorable to operating with minimum fuel.  In addition, I produced a series of standard passenger and baggage loading schedules for each individual plane in the fleet.

Another technical aspect that I addressed was engine operation. In aviation, a long-standing practice was for someone to “check you out” in an unfamiliar type. This type of training could result in “rules of thumb” and “procedures” that differed from what was specified by the engine and airplane manufacturer. I obtained my own set of manuals and other documents from the sources and found many of the power settings being used were incorrect. Correct and precise operation of advanced engines, such as the Lycoming TIO-J2BD in the Chieftain, was necessary not only to achieve optimum fuel economy but also service life of the components.

Many owners and operators of these engines, even today, think the way they operate them is more conservative. In truth, running them too rich and too cool can have a detrimental effect on the turbochargers and associated components. Having all of our pilots operate the engines exactly the same way, and as prescribed by Lycoming, resulted in excellent reliability. I could tell just by observing the color of the exhaust pipe if the engine was being operated correctly. The spark plugs rarely fouled, and we had no misbehaving engines.

Previously, I mentioned the ticket counter at the Charlotte airport. Ours was a small counter situated with those of Piedmont, Southern, United, and Delta. Once, a customer approached me at the counter and asked, “When is your flight from Frankfurt arriving?”  I said, “We only fly to Florence and Hickory.”  No flights were arriving at this airport from Europe. This was an example of one of the many times we were perceived as the central information counter. It was amusing as Air Carolina and Wheeler Airlines were two tiny local commuter lines.

On another occasion, I had a couple of customers in line purchasing tickets. A third gentleman was in line, and when it was his turn to be served, he started by grabbing me by my necktie and accusing me of being rude to him. He left the counter in a huff and went to Avis to rent a car instead of taking our flight.  He filed a complaint with my employer and I was called on the carpet to answer. What we concluded was the man’s company had sent him on this trip and booked him with the connection from an Eastern flight. There was no way he wanted to ride on a small plane with a young single pilot.  By making a scene and complaining, he could justify the expense of the rental car to his employer.

Stay tuned for Part 3, Flying the line for Air Carolina.

Air Carolina Part 1

By Ellis M. Chernoff

All Photos by the Author

The year is 1977. It was the year following my graduation from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University (ERAU). I had returned to California and resumed flight instructing while applying to every airline in the country. During the summer, I bought a bunch of airline tickets and, wearing a nice navy-blue suit, visited the offices of a half-dozen airlines attempting to get my foot in the door. I had a four-year degree, my FAA certificates, and log books full of plenty of hours. Yet, my long-sought goal was not realized. I returned home disappointed that every employer wanted what I didn’t have and didn’t value what I had or my potential.

In September, I received a phone call from one of my fellow university students. Telling him about my recent travels and efforts to get an airline job, he asked, “Do you want a job?” Like a line of ERAU students before us, Lou was flying for a very small commuter airline based in Florence, South Carolina. I couldn’t be choosy at this point and said that I’ll be there as soon as I can drive across country.

I arrived in Florence tired and grubby and was enthusiastically greeted by the executives and staff. Air Carolina was a Piper Aircraft dealer, flight school, and ran a scheduled commuter airline. They also flew on-demand charter, along with a contract with the military. In fact, I was hired to captain a Navajo Chieftain that was in Ohio, operating flights for the US Air Force mainly between Wright-Patterson AFB and Dobbins AFB in Georgia. The passengers were commuting in support of a major modification of the C-5A Galaxy fleet.

Before I could assume my duties on the Chieftan, I had to be trained and certified by Air Carolina on their FAR 135 certificate. I familiarized myself with the operations manual and operations specifications approved by the FAA. Of course, I also studied the manual of the Piper Navajo Chieftain, and I was invited to ride right seat on the scheduled airline flights if an open seat was available. My first opportunity to do this came the second evening with a captain whom I had known at the university. He walked me through the filing of the flight plan, servicing of fuel load, and preparation of the weight and balance form. The process was one I had never seen. It was a series of subtractions from the maximum gross weight of passenger and crew weights, fuel, and whatever was left was considered “baggage”. On paper, we would only carry 20 pounds of baggage, yet we would fill four baggage compartments to the brim. And passengers were all counted at 160 pounds, despite them obviously weighing more than that. This is all “FAA Approved”.

The same authority would allow the airline to train me in a Piper PA-34 Seneca, and that would qualify me to fly any of the Piper twin-engine models. I had obtained my multiengine rating in the Piper Apache, and the Seneca was much more modern and better equipped. Taking my first flight in that plane, something strange was evident. Upon establishing the engines in cruise power, I could only close one cowl flap while the other engine would overheat unless its cowl flap was left fully open. I asked the instructor/chief pilot about this, and he told me that it had been this way since they overhauled the engines.

The next day, my training flight was cancelled because the Seneca was in the hangar for its required 100-hour inspection and maintenance. I gave the plane a good looking over while the mechanics were working on it to be more familiar with its workings. Interestingly, I discovered that the cylinder temperature sensors were not correctly installed. I had worked on airplanes as an apprentice throughout my pilot training years under the supervision of licensed A&P mechanics. I had installed many overhauled engines on multiple types of general aviation planes.

I completed my Seneca checkout but was scheduled for my FAR 135 check-ride in a Piper Navajo B, which I had not yet flown. Again, I was offered a “fly along” the night before, and perhaps the pilot would let me fly a leg if the return had no revenue passengers. I joined Captain Craig in the right seat of N9192Y for the flight to Charlotte on a dark and rainy night. I noticed that he carried no navigation charts and he flew the route from memory.

After delivering our load of mail to the post office at the Charlotte Douglas Airport, we returned to the ramp and he offered me the left seat for the return flight. I started the engines, he worked the radio, and we taxied out for takeoff. I was directed to stop at an intersection of Runway 18. I questioned him about intersection takeoffs, and he responded that they always used that intersection. When I started the engine run-up procedure, he asked why I was doing that. I replied that I always perform a run-up after any engine shutdown.

Cleared for takeoff, we roared down the runway and I selected Landing Gear UP once airborne. Suddenly, the plane swerved to the right. Thinking a throttle had slipped back, I checked that all engine controls were still full forward and they were. About this time, Craig said, “I have it,” and he took control of the aircraft and immediately started a turn to the right. I asked, “What are you doing?” He replied, “Turning back”. At not much more than 150 feet in the air, I was looking through the right side window at the terminal building and the parking lot. Clearly, the right engine was not producing power, and the left engine was trying to flip us over. A turn into the dead engine is exactly what we are all trained to NEVER DO.

I’m looking at the flight instruments as we are in a right bank with speed and altitude decreasing. In this dangerous attitude, we penetrate the overcast and Craig returns the controls to me. Engine out and unusual attitude recovery. Certainly the truest test of my flying. Yes, I get things sorted out, and the Tower asks if we’re having difficulty. Craig says to me, “Look at that!” I asked, “Is it bad?” Of course it was, so I said, “Feather that engine,” which he did. But he didn’t tell the Tower that we had lost an engine, only telling the controller that we wanted to return to the airport. They asked, “What approach would you like?” and Craig looked at me. I replied, “What’s the weather?” The answer only gave the choice for an ILS to Runway 5. The Captain had not brought any charts, so I directed him to set up the radios while I continued to fly.

The approach to Runway 5 was to minimums and I made the single-engine landing. But while taxiing back to the ramp, Craig tried to un-feather the propeller. He didn’t want anyone to see it!

The following day back in Florence, I got a hero’s welcome, but I still had to take the scheduled check-ride. I mentioned that surely my performance the night before, with a real engine failure and single-engine instrument approach to minimums, should suffice to prove my competence. “Did you do a missed approach?” Of course not, so I still had to perform the check-ride.

This was my introduction to big-time airline flying. The next two years would include many more challenges and seasoning that changed me from a pleasure pilot into a professional.

In summary and in reference to the above episode, the Piper PA-31-310 Navajo B is an 8-place executive twin equipped with Lycoming TIO-540 A1A engines that produce 310 hp. The four aircraft of this type in the Air Carolina fleet all had 2-blade propellers. While everyone at Air Carolina assumed the engine that failed on my flight was a high-time engine, in truth, it had recently been overhauled. A piston pin failed and allowed its associated connecting rod to flail in the engine case and punch a hole the size of one’s fist through the top of the case. This resulted in the loss of all of that engine’s oil; the propeller actually feathered itself as a consequence of the oil pressure loss.

Stay tuned for Early Codeshare, Air Carolina Part 2.

By Charles Dolan

It has been quite a while since I contributed to the Captain’s Log, so I decided to use our forced “time out” at the hands of Tropical Storm Nicole to dust the cobwebs off my collection and share some images. My last writings covered Central and South America, and I felt it was time to put the spotlight on Mexico. 

When I worked at Baltimore Airport (BWI) from 1986 to 2002,, Mexicana operated regular services using Boeing 727s and, at peak times, DC-10 aircraft. Compania Mexicana de Aviacion, S.A. de C.V. had a long history going back to 1921. As I recall, their service was pretty reliable, and the passengers seemed satisfied.

 Winter sun seekers and college (and some high school) spring breakers often flew on Mexican non-scheduled or charter carriers. Some were good, some less so, but we worked them all, and the merry-makers went south to tan and came home to resume their studies.  One airline that sticks in my mind was AeroCancun, which had modern equipment and a set of insignia that I still covet for my collection. Their Jefe de Pilotos assured me that he would bring me a set on his next trip,  but even though we met several times after that, the silver, white and turquoise wings and cap badge never materialized.

 Sad tale over, here are those insignia that I did manage to obtain over the years. Certainly, CMA / Mexicana and later Aviacsa, LaTur, Aeromar Allegro and TEASA passed through BWI, most aquisitions were the result of letters addressed to the main bases of the airlines featured or purchases on eBay.

Enjoy our quick trip south of the border.

Mexican Carrier Insignias

AEROMEXICO – Aeronaves de Mexico/Aerovias de Mexico (AM / AMX)

1934-present. Adopted name AEROMEXICO in 1972. Two versions are shown below.

AEROMAR – Transportes Aeromar S.A. de C.V. (VW / TAO)

1987 – present.

Allegro – LineasAereas Allegro (LL / GRO)

1992 – 2004.

AVIACSA – Consorcio Aviaxsa S.A. de C.V. (GA / CHP)

1990 – 2011.

MEXICANA – Compania Mexicana de Aviacion, S.A. de C.V. – Mexicana de Aviacion (MX / MXA)

1921 – 2010. Three styles of insignia are shown below.

Interjet – ABC Aerolineas, S.A. de C.V., (4O / AIJ)

2005 – 2020.

LaTur – Lineas Aereas LaTur (WC / LUR)

1998 – 1992. Absorbed by TAESA

TAESA – Transportes Aereos Ejecutivos S.A. (GD / TEJ)

1988 – 2000.

Volaris – Concesionaria Vuela Compania de Aviacion S.A.P.I. de C.V. ( Y4 / VOI)

2005 – present.

By Fons Schaefers

In 1977 I had the rare opportunity to fly on a flying boat reminiscent of times gone by. The boat was a 1943-built Short Sandringham named Southern Cross and registered as VP-LVE. It was operated by Antilles Air Boats. Both that year and the year before, it came all the way from St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands in the Caribbean to England to do some pleasure flights.

Preparations

When I received the “week ending 27 August 1977” edition of Flight International, this article caught my attention:

In the classified advertisement section of that same issue there was more information:

Wow. How nice it would be to enjoy such a pleasure flight! Er, why not try it? I called a spotting mate to see if he would like to join me. The answer was yes, very much. My issue of Flight had arrived on Saturday, August 27. The flights would start on Thursday, September 1, so I knew I had to be quick. I lived in the Netherlands, not England, so this meant I had some organizing to do.

On Tuesday, I called the Dorset number, or rather, I had a post office do that for me. It was the first time I made an international call, and, how could I know what the Blandford Dorset telephone code was? (The internet did not exist at the time, let alone Google.) The guy on the phone – I think he worked for, or even was, M.M. Aviation – said he had seats available for Monday afternoon, September 5, around 2:00 pm and we should report in Calshot on time. With that confirmation in the pocket, we arranged train tickets from Amsterdam to Southampton.

Late on Sunday, September 4, I left home, joined my pal and rode the train to Hoek van Holland to catch the night ferry from Hoek to Harwich. In London, we transferred from Liverpool Street station to Waterloo station by Tube (metro). In Southampton, we took a bus through the New Forest to Calshot village, arriving about 1:00 pm. There, we saw the Sandringham in the distance, between trees, floating in the water between the English coast and the Isle of Wight.

Next, we walked over to Calshot pier, the former RAF flying boat base, but found it deserted. However, soon after, a bus appeared full of air enthusiasts and the MM representative. Unbeknownst to us, they had assembled at a meeting point in Southampton. The representative was happy to see us, fearing we had not made it.

The airplane had arrived from Ireland on Friday around 17:30 pm. There were no flights over the weekend. Our flight was the first one on Monday afternoon. In the morning, there had been a flight for the press and other invitees. During that week, there were 17 flights in total, the last of which was on Friday, September 9. (On Tuesday, September 6, flights had to be cancelled because of low clouds.) Although Antilles Air Boats (AAB) was the operator, the boat was leased by Aer Arann, a small Irish airline normally flying between Galway, Ireland, and the three offshore Arann Islands. The ticket – or was it the boarding pass – mentioned “M. M. Aviation in conjunction with Antilles Air Boats” with no mention of Aer Arann. I assume their role was limited to some aeropolitical aspects while M.M. Aviation took care of local arrangements, sales and promotion. The fare was ₤19.50. According to the Bank of England, in 2024 this equals ₤112, or $143. Not only was this very cheap for a one-hour sightseeing flight, but when considering its unique and historical nature, it was a true bargain.

The Boat

A launch took us to the flying boat, which was moored quite a distance away. Calshot pier borders on Southampton Water, but for environmental reasons no permission had been obtained to use that. Rather, a stretch of water on the Solent abeam the Beaulieu river mouth (off Lepe) had been assigned.

We approached the boat from the rear and took our first pictures.

Next, we moored at the entrance left forward. Negotiating two steps down, we entered a vestibule area with access to the bow area, left, and the passenger compartments on the right. While this area was unfurnished, exposing the metal skin of the boat, the cabins were furnished with wood, reminding us that this airplane was built before plastics had invaded aircraft interiors. The seating arrangements were very unlike the modern jet tubes with its seats lined up as a military regiment. The main deck had four compartments, each seating six or eight in a club layout, for a total of 30.

Between the third and fourth compartment, there was a steep set of stairs, 59 cm (23 inches) wide, leading to the upper deck. At its top, to the left (so, forward in the direction of flight) was the galley. To the right there was another passenger compartment, seating 14.

The cabin diagram below, although taken from the AAB manual, was drawn by Ansett in 1965 for VH-BRC as the boat was then known. It shows the two decks, the five passenger compartments, the galley and the flight deck. Note the gender-specific toilets opposite the entrance door. Today, the boat is preserved in Southampton’s Solent Sky Museum. When I inspected the boat in December 2024, three more aft-facing seats were present in cabin B. It is likely that they were there in 1977 as well. I assume Ansett also had them, but did not show them as they were for the crew and not to be booked. In cabin D, there was one fewer forward-facing seat than Ansett showed.

Seating was open, but after 47+ years, we do not remember where we sat! The cabin and seat numbers were not marked in the boat.

During the cruise flight, we could freely roam around the two decks.

The cockpit, on the upper deck, was not accessible from the galley as the wing was in the way, although small items such as meals could be handed through. It could only be reached via a vertical set of steps in the vestibule area.

Taking turns, we were all allowed to climb the steps and take cockpit pictures in-flight. While waiting, I took a picture straight up. It shows the ceiling of the flight deck, the left arm of the co-pilot and a communications cord that is also visible in the next photograph, taken upstairs.

The captain was the famous Charles F. Blair Jr., founder and president of Antilles Air Boats and the third husband of the even more famous movie actress Maureen O’Hara.

Charles Blair was sadly to die one year later in an accident with a Grumman Goose. On the right sat Ronald Gillies, who had already flown the same airplane when it was still VH-BRC. Noel Hollë was the flight engineer and James C. (Jim) Flanagan, also a flight engineer, was the mooring man, or bow officer. Flanagan had greeted us from his prominent position in the bow when we arrived in the launch. At 29, he was by far the youngest member of the crew. He had only arrived the day before, and this was his first visit to the UK. According to documentation that was sent a few weeks later, Noreen Gillies, Ron’s wife, was the flight hostess. However, Maureen O’Hara was also on board, selling merchandise such as Sandringham T-shirts to the passengers after each flight. 

The flight deck itself was roomy, with seats not only for the two pilots but also for a flight engineer. Unlike in landplanes, his position was at the far end of the cockpit, facing backward.

In 2024, and very likely in 1977 as well, three more seats were present that are not shown in Ansett’s diagram. A navigator’s station, a jumpseat and a seat, according to a museum volunteer, that had been installed for Maureen O’Hara.

I do not remember if any safety briefing was given, but I doubt it. It is also unlikely there were safety cards for each passenger. There must have been cards posted in the compartments, as they were still there in 2024. They were for VH-BRC; AAB probably never made their own. For cabin E, the card was fixed above the stairs, not well in sight. In cabin D, it lacked altogether. Perhaps that one had been removed for or by an acquisitive collector?

The card shows the entrance door, on the left, a smaller hatch at the far right, plus an upper hatch, all as emergency exits. Both hatches were only accessible via the lower and upper cargo compartments, respectively, which, themselves, were accessible from the cabins. The card adds that “all windows may be used as exits.” On the lower frame of each cabin window was a sign saying:

Emergency exit – to eject window give a sharp blow towards one edge of window with foot or hand.

Above the portals between the compartments there were fasten seat belt – no smoking signs, very elongated as it used text, not symbols.

The Flight

Tension mounted as the door was closed, the launch left and the engines started. Charles Blair steered the boat into the wind and started the take-off. After a long run, with water splashing against the aft windows, it gently lifted off. The rate of climb was very low. We cruised at an altitude of not more than 500 feet (150 meters). I have no recollection of the route, but with its very modest cruising speed of about 120 knots (220 km/h), we possibly could have reached as far as Weymouth before returning. Or did we go to Bournemouth and then circle the Isle of Wight, as Trevor Bartlett reported was the case on his 6:51 pm flight that day? (see https://abpic.co.uk/pictures/view/1276125). Perhaps a “boomer” from south England or the Isle of Wight will recognize the scenery in these pictures.

After about one hour, we came back in for the landing on the Solent. Suddenly, water splashed against the windows again. Upon mooring, we saw a boat waiting with the next group of enthusiasts and an empty boat waiting to pick us up.

Before returning to Calshot, we floated at a safe distance for taking pictures of Southern Cross taxiing and taking off on its next flight.

The press release for the September flights had announced that “Flying in Southern Cross recaptures something of the space and grace (and indeed the pace) of a near-forgotten era of civil aviation.” After 47 years, these words have only gained in significance.

Museum Piece

Southern Cross returned to Calshot in 1981. It did not do pleasure flights anymore, but was stored there. Later, it was taxied on its two inner engines across Southampton Water to Lee-on-Solent before being pontooned to Southampton. Since 1984, it has been by far the largest artifact in the local Solent Sky Museum. It has been repainted in the colours of Ansett Airlines, displaying the registration VH-BRC and bearing the name Beachcomber. While it had an impressive active life of almost 40 years, its passive, museum life has now surpassed that in years.

Registration mark

Why did the boat have that odd registration mark – VP-LVE? AAB was based in the U.S. Virgin Islands (USVI), which follows U.S. aviation regulations. When Blair collected the boat in 1974 in Australia, he registered it as N158C. But the U.S. authorities would not allow him to use the N register for sustained operations with passengers. Across from the USVI, at a stone’s throw from St. John, was the island of Tortola, a regular AAB destination. This belonged to the British Virgin Islands (BVI). At the time, it issued registration marks in the VP-LVx range. Next in line was VP-LVE, which the BVI governor was happy to grant. The Director of Civil Aviation for BVI (as well as other British leeward and windward islands) well recognised the Sandringham’s certification, so that VP-LVE could be issued a Certificate of Airworthiness and could fly us, passengers.

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Sources

To fill the gaps in my memory and for additional information, I consulted:

• Rob Hemelrijk, who had joined me that day;
• Letter by Dersot Doran, dated 20 September 1977
• Fabulous Flying Boats, by Leslie Dawson, 2013
• antillesairboats.com

All black and-white photos, and the three exterior colour photos, were taken in 1977. Except for these three, all photos by the author.

Fons Schaefers: f.schaefers@planet.nl, January 2025

By Marvin G. Goldman

In 1925, the owner of Coca-Cola, Asa Candler, leased to the City of Atlanta his abandoned auto racetrack site for development into an airfield named Candler Field.

The first airlines to serve Atlanta were Florida Airways which operated from 1926 to 1927; St. Tammany Gulf Coast Airways, 1927, which became a division of Southern Air Transport System in 1929 and in turn part of American Airways in 1930; Pitcairn Aviation which started in 1927, was renamed Eastern Air Transport in 1930 and then became part of Eastern Air Lines in 1934; and Delta Air Service (later named Delta Air Lines) in 1930. During the 1930s, both Delta and Eastern expanded their routes into and out of Candler Field and became the main airlines serving Atlanta at the time. 

In 1929, the City of Atlanta purchased the airfield from Asa Candler on favorable terms, and though the airport was officially renamed Atlanta Municipal Airport in 1942, it continued to be popularly referred to as Candler Field. 

Here is my earliest postcard of Candler Field showing an airline:

In March 1939, Candler Field built its first control tower in a six-story building with administrative facilities. The control tower can be seen in this next card:

In 1940, Delta Air Lines acquired four DC-2s, but these were retained only until the end of that year, being replaced by DC-3s.

During World War II, Candler Field also became a U.S. air base, and it doubled in size. In 1941, Delta moved its headquarters from Monroe, Louisiana, to Atlanta, and for decades it has been the dominant airline there. 

Passenger numbers continued to grow, and in 1948 the airport closed its old terminal building and moved operations into a Quonset hut war-surplus “temporary” terminal while it developed plans to build a larger permanent terminal. That year saw more than 1 million passengers pass through Atlanta airport. 

The “temporary” terminal proved to be not so temporary. It served until May 1961, when a new terminal designed to accommodate the jet age finally opened. Here are three postcards from the “temporary” terminal era (1948-1961) at Atlanta Municipal Airport.

On May 3, 1961, Atlanta Municipal Airport finally opened its new Jet-Age terminal, publicizing it as the largest single terminal in the U.S. The terminal was designed to accommodate 6 million passengers a year, but in its first year, 9.5 million passengers utilized it! 

Long-time Mayor William B. Hartsfield, the driving force behind the development of Atlanta Airport as a major airline hub, passed away on February 22, 1971, and on February 28, 1971, the airport name was changed to William B. Hartsfield Atlanta Airport. On July 1, 1971, following the launch by Eastern Air Lines of the airport’s first international service (to Mexico and Montego Bay),  the airport was again renamed to William B. Hartsfield Atlanta International Airport. 

On September 21, 1980, Hartsfield Atlanta International Airport opened the Midfield Terminal. It was the world’s largest air passenger terminal complex at the time, designed to accommodate up to 55 million passengers each year. It replaced in stages the old terminal and its concourses A through F.

In October 2003, to honor former Atlanta Mayor Maynard Jackson, the Airport was again renamed, this time as Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. 

Since 1998, Atlanta Airport has been the world’s busiest passenger airport. It serves on average 2,700 departures and arrivals daily by airlines operating nonstop to more than 150 U.S. destinations and over 70 international cities in 50 countries. In 2024, Atlanta airport handled 108.1 million passengers (an average of about 295,000 a day), the second-highest year in its history. This represents nearly a full recovery from the general decline in passenger traffic due to the COVID-19 pandemic, which began in 2020 and followed the airport’s record 110 million passengers in 2019. 

Delta is by far the dominant airline in Atlanta, with about 73% of the passenger traffic. Southwest is second with 8%, followed by Spirit, Frontier, Endeavor Air (operating as Delta Connection),  American and United. 

Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport is now engaged in a major 20-year capital improvement program, which includes modernizing its domestic terminal, expanding concourses and cargo operations, replacing parking facilities, and eventually developing a hotel and mixed-use facilities. 

We close this Atlanta postcard article with a beautiful card showing the very aircraft that now resides in full splendor at the Delta Flight Museum, the site of Airliners International 2025 ATL, June 25-28, 2025, adjacent to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport.

Notes: The originals of all postcards shown are in color and from the author’s collection. All are in standard or continental size. I estimate their rarity as Uncommon: The Candler Field card with an  Eastern DC-2; the ‘Temporary’ terminal card with a Delta DC-3 in the center; the Piedmont Airlines card; and the card showing Delta aircraft at the rotundas and gates added in 1968. The rest of the postcards are fairly common. This article is an update and revision of an earlier one by the author on Atlanta airport postcards published in the Spring 2015 issue of The Captain’s Log, vol. 39, no. 4. 

Airliners International 2025 ATL Postcard Exhibits by Collectors: The AI 2025 show at the Delta  Flight Museum, Atlanta airport, will again feature a display of airline and airport postcard exhibits.  Whether you’re an experienced collector or a beginner, please consider submitting an exhibit. It’s a lot of fun, and the postcard displays stimulate greater interest in collecting airline and airport postcards. This year’s Postcard Exhibit Guidelines can be found at airlinersinternational.org under the tab Contest Information (even though it’s an exhibit, not a contest). I look forward to seeing you at Airliners International 2025, Atlanta, June 25-28. 

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References: 

www.sunshineskies.com/atlanta.html. This is a great website with hundreds of pictures, many postcard views, and extensive information on the history of Atlanta airport. 

www.atl.com. Official site of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport 

www.deltamuseum.org. Official site of The Delta Flight Museum, Atlanta airport, where  Airliners International 2025 will be held June 25-28, 2025. 

golldiecat.tripod.com/atl.html. History of Hartsfield Atlanta International Airport from 1961 to 1980, illustrated with postcard views. 

Cearley, Jr., George W., Atlanta (1991) and The Delta Family History (1985), each self-published. 

Davies, R.E.G., Delta: An Airline and Its Aircraft. Paladwr Press (1990). 

www.wahsonline.com. Official site of the World Airline Historical Society.

Until next time, Happy Collecting. Marvin.

By Ron Suttell

Cards like these are commonly referred to in the collecting hobby as “pilot trading cards” due to their intended use for flight crews to hand them out to passengers, with a signature line on the back. These unique cards were produced over the years by Alaska’s former ad agency, Cohen-Dwyer Advertising, beginning with three sepia-tone cards in 1996. The first issued cards featured three different vintage Alaska Airlines aircraft (Bellanca Skyrocket, Douglas DC-3 and Boeing 727-90C) and were intended as promotional giveaways to celebrate Alaska’s upcoming 65^th anniversary.

In the ensuing years, full-color cards were produced in the late 1990s with stylized wings logo “Alaska’s World” (an ad campaign during that era) in the upper left corner of the card. Only two Alaska cards were issued with this logo, a Boeing 737-400 and McDonnell Douglas MD-80.

Around the same time, subsidiary carrier Horizon issued a card of its Dash 8Q-200 (de Havilland DHC-8-200 turbo-prop) with a similar card format.  This particular card is considered the rarest one.

Alaska and Horizon both continued with this format-gold frame with a polished gold inset for a few more cards but without the “Alaska’s World” wings logo. Among them are two different cards of the Boeing 737-900 with the gold seal “Official Launch Carrier” in the lower right corner. The first of these (below left) was issued in very limited quantities and only distributed to attendees at the May 16, 2001 Boeing delivery roll-out ceremony.  It is also very rare.

Beginning in 2002, Alaska began issuing these cards in a different format with full-color layout on the card front, initially with artist images of its many different special schemes, and later with actual inflight photographs or ground views of each different aircraft type in the fleet. At the time, this was especially important to promote the company’s strong partnership with Disneyland Resort since many of its planes sported Disney schemes.

Unfortunately for the meticulous trading card collector, this is where it starts to get a bit complicated for those desiring to have the complete set. Some of the Disney cards began to show up with variations, not readily caught at first, but seen by the astute eye of true hobbyists. For example, the card with the Boeing 737-400 Magic of Disneyland (better known as the Tinkerbell scheme) was issued with four different variations-even different backs on two of them, while the Alaska Statehood cards have blue/white title variations. This is attributed to the cards being reissued in different years, or in some cases just to produce a better image.

Similarly, the card with Spirit of Make-a-Wish scheme has two different backs of the same card.

Other variations appear on the Boeing 737-400 Salmon Thirty Salmon cards and the 75^th anniversary scheme 737-800 Starliner which includes two different cards. One of the most rarely seen variants of this card collection, issued in 2009, is below on the right.

The 737-400 alaskaair.com Dot Com scheme has an early gold frame card with the same image of the plane as appears later on an updated card in 2005.

Another interesting variant was a card honoring famous Olympic athlete Apolo Ohno, who became a spokesperson for Alaska Airlines for a brief time. One of its planes, a Boeing 737-800 (N596AS), was decorated with a “Follow Apolo” motif in 2010.

The last cards to be issued (see below) were in 2013, and are less common today.

From a purely technical standpoint, the Alaska Airlines cards are in a uniquely separate category from actual hobby collector cards due to their larger size (3-1/4” x 4-1/4” vs. standard baseball card size of 2-1/2” x 3-1/2”) and also of thinner card stock, but are nevertheless highly collectible. Unfortunately, the cards were never numbered, nor is their print run known, making it difficult to appraise their true value other than what may appear on eBay and other auction sites. By comparison, several other airlines have produced more traditional “baseball card size” issues (Delta, FedEx, Hawaiian, Northwest, United, and recently Frontier of wildlife on the tails of their planes), but only Delta has seen fit to number their cards consecutively so their cards are very popular with the hobbyists-especially for several early issue, low production cards that are difficult to find. Alaska did issue a set of more traditionally-sized collector cards in 1997 to celebrate its 65^th anniversary. This 25-card boxed set of colorful cards includes past and present planes in Alaska’s history and comes in both standard blue titles as well as special limited edition gold embossed versions.

From the number of cards in my personal collection, with known variants and re-issued, updated versions of the same aircraft type, I calculate that there are 46 total different cards in Alaska’s odd-size collection as listed below:

• Bellanca “Skyrocket”
• Boeing 727-90C “Golden Nugget Jet”
• Boeing 737-400 “Alaska’s World”
• Boeing 737-400 “Combi”
• Boeing 737-400 “Magic of Disneyland” Tinkerbell (4)
• Boeing 737-400 “Salmon Thirty Salmon” (3)
• Boeing 737-400 “Spirit of Alaska Statehood” (2)
• Boeing 737-400 “Spirit of Disneyland” (2)
• Boeing 737-400 “Spirit of Make-a-Wish” (2)
• Boeing 737-400 alaskaair.com “Dot Com” (3)
• Boeing 737-400 Freighter
• Boeing 737-400 standard livery
• Boeing 737-700 Portland “Timbers Jet”
• Boeing 737-700 standard livery (2)
• Boeing 737-800 “Follow Apolo” (2)
• Boeing 737-800 “Spirit of Seattle”
• Boeing 737-800 “Starliner 75” (2)
• Boeing 737-800 alaskaair.com “Dot Com”
• Boeing 737-800 ETOPS “Adventure of Disneyland Resort” Cars movie characters (2)
• Boeing 737-800 ETOPS “Salmon Thirty Salmon II” 
• Boeing 737-800 ETOPS “Spirit of the Islands”
• Boeing 737-800 ETOPS Hawaiian lei on tail
• Boeing 737-800 standard livery
• Boeing 737-900 “Spirit of Disneyland II”
• Boeing 737-900 standard livery (3)
• Boeing 737-900ER standard livery
• Bombardier Q400
• Douglas DC-3
• McDonnell Douglas MD-80
• McDonnell Douglas MD-80 “Alaska’s World”

There are also 8 total cards issued by Horizon Air:

• Bombardier CRJ-700 vertical card
• Bombardier Q200/Q400 vertical card
• Bombardier Q400 “Celebrating 25 Years”
• De Havilland DHC-8Q-200 Horizon Air wings logo
• De Havilland DHC-8Q-200 “Dash 8” (2)
• Fokker F28-4000 (2) 

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Ron Suttell, an airline historian specializing in Alaska Airlines, can be reached at rpsuttell@comcast.net.

By James P. (Jamie) Baldwin

Pan American World Airways has always been associated with the sea and things nautical.  Its aircraft were called “Clippers” and many of the Clipper names had references to the sea, particularly with the Boeing 747 aircraft, which were given names such as Pride of the Sea, Champion of the Seas, Spark of the Ocean, Belle of the Sea, Crest of the Wave and Sovereign of the Seas, to name a few.

How Pan American became the “Nautical Airline” is centered on Pan American’s founder, Juan Trippe who dreamed of this idea from the beginning of his venture in establishing an airline. How Pan American was formed is a story of wheeling and dealing, mergers and acquisitions and financial and political maneuvering that is well documented in the Pan American literature, including Robert Daley’s An American Saga – Juan Trippe and His Pan Am Empire (hereinafter “Daley”), Marylin Bender and Selig Altschul’s The Chosen Instrument (hereinafter “Bender and Altschul”) and R.E.G. Davies’ Pan Am, An Airline and Its Aircraft (hereinafter “Davies”).

Suffice it to say, however, it is useful to have a little background.  In the beginning, there were four interested groups, as identified by Davies. The first group, the Montgomery Group, formed Pan American Airways, Inc. (PAA).  It was founded on 14 March 1927 by Air Force Majors “Hap” Arnold, Carl Spaatz, and John H. Jouett, later joined by John K. Montgomery and Richard B. Bevier, as a counterbalance to German-owned carrier “SCADTA” (Colombo-German Aerial Transport Co) that had been operating in Colombia since 1920.

SCADTA was viewed as a possible German aerial threat to the Panama Canal.  Eventually, Montgomery petitioned the US government to call for bids on a US airmail contract between Key West and Havana (FAM 4) and won the contract.  However, PAA lacked any aircraft to perform the job and did not have landing rights in Cuba.  Under the terms of the contract, PAA had to be flying by 19 October 1927.

On 2 June 1927, Juan Trippe formed the Aviation Corporation of America (ACA) (the Trippe Group) with financially powerful and politically well-connected backing and raised $300,000.  On 1 July Reed Chambers and financier Richard Hoyt (the Chambers-Hoyt Group) formed Southeastern Airlines.

On 8 July Trippe formed Southern Airlines and on 11 October Southeastern was reincorporated as Atlantic, Gulf and Caribbean Airways.  Trippe then proposed a merger between these three groups and in doing so played a trump card:  He and John A. Hambleton, one of his backers, traveled to Cuba and persuaded the Cuban president to grant landing rights to the Aviation Corporation, making Montgomery’s mail contract useless as a bargaining chip.  After much wrangling between the groups, including a meeting on Hoyt’s yacht during which Assistant Postmaster General Irving Grover threatened that if there was no deal he would not be awarding any contract to anyone, the Aviation Corporation of the Americas was formed, operating as Pan American Airways, headed by Juan Trippe. Later the corporation’s name was changed to Pan American Airways.

The deadline of 19 October still loomed, however. A Fokker F-VII aircraft was selected for the operation but could not be used because Meacham’s Field in Key West was not completed and could not accommodate the aircraft. What transpired was an eleventh-hour miracle. Pan American’s representative in Miami learned that a Fairchild FC-2 monoplane was in Key West, sitting out a hurricane threat.  The aircraft was owned by West Indian Aerial Express (the Fairchild Group) and a deal was made to charter the aircraft.  The pilot was offered $145.50 to carry mail to Havana that had just arrived on the Florida East Coast-Atlantic Coast Line railroads.  The hurricane threat disappeared, and the trip was made.  The rest is history.

On 28 October 1927, the Fokker left Key West on Pan American’s inaugural international flight, carrying 772 lb. of mail. On 16 January 1928, the first passenger flight was completed on the same route. And on 28 October 1928, Pan American established its Miami base at Dinner Key.

The First Clipper

In 1931, Pan American acquired the Sikorsky S-40, the first aircraft to be designated “Clipper”. This designation came about as a result of Trippe’s fascination with ships and the sea.  As a child, he had traveled to Europe on Cunard Line ships and this fascination transcended to the idea that Pan American should be a kind of nautical airline.

Along these lines, a maritime culture emerged.  Andre Priester, who Trippe had previously hired as chief engineer, dressed the pilots as naval officers with gold wings pinned to their breast pockets. Gold stripes were on the jacket sleeves to show rank. The pilots also wore peaked hats with white covers and a gold strap. And, according to Daley, Priester “forbade [the pilots] to stuff or twist these caps into the dashing, high-peaked shapes so dear to most aviators’ hearts.” These naval trappings according to Bender and Altschul “served to set distance between the airline and aviation’s all too proximate history symbolized by the khaki breeches, leather puttees, jacket and helmet of the daredevil flyer. [Pan American’s] pilots were invested as engineers to whom flying was a scientific business rather than a thrilling escapade.” Pilots underwent a stringent and comprehensive training program and, according to former flying boat and retired captain Bill Nash, were required to have college degrees prior to hiring and to demonstrate proven proficiency prior to promotion in the flight deck. Nash started as a Fourth Officer before rising to Captain.

When the S-40 made its debut, it was the largest airplane built in the United States. Its maiden voyage on 19 November 1931 was from Miami to the Canal Zone carrying 32 passengers with Charles Lindbergh at the controls and Basil Rowe (formerly with the West Indian Aerial Express) as co-pilot.  Igor Sikorsky, whom Trippe had earlier brought on board to design an aircraft to Pan American’s own specifications (the predecessor to the S-40, the S-38) also had some time at the controls.

Trippe named the aircraft the American Clipper. Perhaps inspired by prints of American Clipper ships hanging in his home or reaching back to his Maryland ancestry from where these swift sailing ships originated in the shipyards of Baltimore, it was, according to Bender and Altschul “appropriate then, to call the first transport ship designed for international air commerce after those magnificent vessels.” Thereafter, all Pan American aircraft were to be designated Clippers.

The operation would be in keeping with maritime lore and custom. The pilot was called “captain” and the co-pilot “first officer”. The title “captain” implied master of the ship or chief executive of the flying boat. Speed was calculated in knots (nautical miles per hour), time in bells, and a crew’s tour of duty was a “watch”. In the cabin, according to Daley, “walls and ceilings would be finished in walnut painted in a dark stain, and the fifty passengers would sit in Queen Anne chairs upholstered in blue and orange. The carpet would be blue, and the windows equipped with rope blinds. As aboard any ship, life rings would hang from the walls of the lounge.” The stewards, according to Bender and Altschul, “were modeled in function and appearance after the personnel of luxury ocean liners. Their uniforms were black trousers and white waist-length jackets over white shirts and black neckties. Stewards distributed remedies for airsickness, served refreshments (and in the S-40, prepared hot meals in the galley of the aircraft), pointed out scenic attractions from the windows of the plane and assisted with the red tape of Customs and landing procedures.”

This nautical approach seemed to carry on through the entire existence of Pan American.  The flight deck – bridge – was always on the top deck, as on an ocean liner.  This was evident in the flying boats, including the Martin M-130, the China Clipper, the Boeing 314, the Boeing 377 Stratocruiser and the Boeing 747, with its flight deck on the upper deck of the aircraft.

The flight deck of the Boeing 314 had the appearance of the bridge of a merchant ship:

Below, the SS United States and the bridge of a large merchant ship (bottom):

A “nautical” ambiance was also prevalent at Clipper departures, particularly from Dinner Key in Miami during the early years and Pan American’s Worldport at New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport in the later years. There was an atmosphere like the departure of an ocean liner, with festivity, sense of adventure, and anticipation of a voyage to a distant place. The setting at the Worldport, particularly with the evening departures to distant destinations, included passengers and well-wishers gathered at the gate in sight of the Clipper being readied for the long voyage ahead. There was a sense of drama; the type of drama that Juan Trippe probably envisaged for each Clipper departure. The romance of traveling to faraway places was part and parcel of the Pan American experience.

The nautical element was also featured in many of Pan American’s printed brochures and posters, as well as on the cover of an annual report.

However, as the years passed, the romance of the “nautical airline” began to wear out. Perhaps Pan American tried to preserve it with the Boeing 747, but times had changed.  The grand ocean liners were soon replaced by cruise ships where passengers were more interested in the on-board entertainment rather than the peaceful environment of the sea (although that can still be experienced on cargo ships). Airline passengers became more interested in getting from A to B at the lowest fare, rather than experiencing the ambiance of a flying ocean liner.  Airplanes became more like buses, apart from the premium cabins, rather than airships commanding the airways. And the bridge, both on many cruise ships and on the largest passenger aircraft in the world, would no longer be on the topmost deck. The sense of command of the airways and the sea has seemed to disappear, and the bridge, “formerly sacrosanct navigational preserves”, as eloquently described by John Maxtone-Graham in Liners to the Sun, is now simply a functionary in the process of getting passengers from A to B, or in the case of a cruise ship, from A to A via port visits.

In the picture below of an Emirates Airline A380, note that the flight deck is located between the main and upper decks. Compare the flight deck location on the Boeing 747 and other earlier aircraft pictured above. And, on the newer cruise liners, the bridge is not on the highest deck, as shown here on the Holland America Line’s MS Koningsdam, where it is located four decks below the top deck.

Perhaps Pan American the Nautical Airline was overcome by its own success.  One cannot, however, deny that the idea of a nautical airline was a necessary step in the process of shrinking the globe. Now, with today’s technology, it probably is no longer needed.  Happily, one tradition of the nautical airline continues: The Pilot-in-Command of an airliner is still the “Captain”.

An interesting anecdote:

Like the Boeing 377 Stratocruiser and the Boeing 747 was to Pan American, so is the A380 to Emirates Airline.

In an interview with Emirates CEO Sir Tim Clark, Andreas Spaeth noted that “probably no other airline boss since Pan Am patriarch Juan Trippe in the 1950s and 1960s, who helped shape the all-important Boeing 747, was as influential regarding what aircraft manufacturers were bringing to market than Sir Tim, a role he excels and revels in.”

Clark recalled how his parents “enjoyed the Pan Am Stratocruiser – the lounge downstairs, the dining room at the back…”

In another interview with Sam Chui, Clark explained his fascination with the double-decker airplane:

“I used to fly on the Pan-Am Boeing 377 Stratocruiser as a child; I was looking around saying, yes, you know they’ve got lounges, they’ve got a dining room downstairs etc. So in all the years, we’ve got the A380 to where that was.”

          In the Spaeth interview, he recalled one of his favorite all-time aviation memories, when he set eyes upon his first jumbo jet: “It was on January 22, 1970, when Pan Am brought the 747 to Heathrow for the first time. I was 20 years old and I managed to get access to the roof of a catering building with my girlfriend to watch it land. We were all stunned.”

Little did he know then that, ultimately, he himself would play an essential role in bringing an even bigger airliner to the world stage.

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Follow this link to read the author’s biography.

Follow this link to learn more about the author’s book, Pan American World Airways: Images of a Great Airline, Second Edition.

By Jim “Jet” Thompson

All Photos by the Author

I traveled to Geneseo, Illinois on Saturday, September 21, 2024, to represent the TWA Museum at the dedication of the TWA Captain Harold Neumann Mural in downtown Geneseo. 

This mural represents Captain Neumann’s flying career with biplanes and air show performances and his career as an air racer. Neumann flew “Ike & Mike,” twin racing planes, in the early 1930’s. He also flew “Mr. Mulligan” the passenger racing plane. All three aircraft were owned by Benny Howard, a former TAT pilot.

Captain Neumann’s career with TWA spanned from 1936 to 1966 and he flew many aircraft from the Douglas DC-1 to the Boeing 707. It’s possible he even flew the Ford Tri-Motor but, that’s not yet confirmed. 

He was hired in October 1936 when Transcontinental & Western Air brought five retired Ford Tri-Motors to fly cargo. However, that venture only lasted a few months as they lost a bunch of money doing that.  He then went on to fly the DC-2, DC-3, Boeing 307, all models of the Lockheed Constellation (“Connie”), and finally the Boeing 707. 

There is an interesting story behind one of the photos. Supposedly, Captain Neumann is standing beside the biplane on the lefthand side of the mural. It isn’t him. Actually, it is Jimmy Doolittle, one of his best friends! This wasn’t discovered until after the artist had painted the mural. Someone looked closely at the photo they used and found a note from Jimmy Doolittle on the back. The note was a wise-cracking remark about him “beating Neumann to something” and proof he (Doolittle) was there!

On a side note, another interesting fact for those who knew the late TWA Capt. Don Peters, he later owned the racing plane “Mike” after it had been retired from air racing.  Don purchased it as his first airplane. By chance, he came across it at the Plain City, Ohio airport. He and two other friends bought it before he went into the military. When he returned from his military service, he learned his two friends had sold it. Don and I came across the aircraft in 2019, in a hangar at the airport in Wadsworth, Ohio. It was hanging from the rafters, just the frame, along with “Ike!” The current owner plans on restoring at least one of them.

Back to Mr. Neumann. 

On one occasion, Captain Neumann made an emergency landing in a TWA L-049 Constellation. Just after departing Amarillo, Texas, and while circling back to the airport, he lost an engine.  As he made his approach, he had to fly UNDER a powerline and the number four engine’s props snagged the powerline causing him to land short of the runway into the mud. The passengers trudged through a muddy cornfield to get back to the terminal. 

Later, Captain Neumann would fly the inaugural TWA Constellation flight from Paris-Orly (ORY) to Chicago O’Hare (ORD) in 1955, officially making Chicago O’Hare an International Airport. He brought home a 3-foot-tall metal replica of the Eiffel Tower from the Mayor of Paris to Richard J. Daley, the Mayor of Chicago.

Two years later he flew the first TWA passengers over the North Pole in a Lockheed L-1649A Constellation on the London Heathrow-San Francisco-Los Angeles route, a total of 23 hours and 55 minutes block time.  

I wore a collection of lapel pins representing the aircraft Neumann flew for TWA. I would have included my Boeing 307 pin, but I didn’t learn until that day he had also flown that aircraft and I didn’t have it with me.

I hope I represented the TWA Museum honorably. Everyone seemed to appreciate what I had to say about Captain Neumann and the history of Transcontinental Air Transport and Trans World Airlines.

The event attendees also wanted to hear some stories about the illustrious Howard Hughes, so I told them stories my father had told me, as well as others I’d read about in a book and some stories from a number of TWA retirees from the Overhaul bases at FFX & Kansas City from over the years. Everyone greatly enjoyed the stories. I really appreciated being asked to represent the TWA Museum at this event; it was an honor.

I set up a table at the event to display artifacts from his career with TWA. I didn’t realize until that day that the TWA Ambassador plaque came out after Neumann retired.

By Thomas Hilditch

The Farnborough International Airshow is a biannual event alternating with the Paris Air Show each year. This famous event started in 1948 with Farnborough site chosen because of its place in British aviation history – in 1908 the first sustained, heavier-than-air, powered and controlled sustained flight in the United Kingdom (their version of our Kitty Hawk, NC). The show was initially intended to display and promote the diverse facets of British aviation manufacturing. Many highlights include the world’s first commercial jet airliner and the debut of Concorde.

The show has evolved to exhibit information on advances in six key industry themes: Defense, Future Flight, Space, Sustainability, and Innovation. It was live-streamed to the world and attended by more than 100,000 visitors from 60 countries. Ninety civil and military aircraft were on display – some static and some flying. Boeing and Airbus announced commercial orders totaling $1.9 billion from Qatar Airways, Japan Airlines, Virgin Atlantic, and Flydubai. 

I was able to attend this year’s show and can offer some insight to others who may want to attend this event in the future. Keep in mind these comments are made through the eyes of an aviation enthusiast/photographer and not a practitioner in the aerospace industry. Only one day of the event is open to the public with the other four days reserved for those employed in the industry. Obtain a list of the exhibitors from the show’s website and contact them to see if they can provide you with a pass. It is necessary to register with www.farnboroughairshow.com if you intend to get a ticket for the public admittance day. The website posts useful information before the show (including a list of exhibitors) and suddenly provides a link to purchase your ticket – they are limited and sell out fast.

Despite limited public participation, there are plenty of photo opportunities exploring the surrounding airfield and plenty of time to speak with other wandering enthusiasts from the excluded public. The website publishes each day’s aircraft and flight times. Photo opportunities of these flight demonstrations abound. The controlled airspace is wide around the airfield allowing good perimeter observations. Flights are generally in the afternoon after 1:00 pm. 

The best place to position yourself is on the outdoor balcony of the multi-story Aviator Hotel immediately adjacent to the airfield. Hotel management allows non-guests to take a seat as long as you continue to purchase drinks. It’s helpful to dress professionally and become friendly with your server – sometimes they will give you a break and won’t make you continue ordering drinks and become inebriated. An alternative good observation point is to skulk around the hotel parking lot.

Planning is crucial if you intend to undertake a pilgrimage to the show. Suitable lodging can be difficult to find – “suitable” meaning a fair price at a close location. There are many surrounding hotels but transportation to and from the event is difficult and chaotic. Something within walking distance is best. Closer to the show date rooms get filled up and prices increase dramatically. I booked a room one year in advance at the Bed & Breakfast Colebrook Guest House (www.colebrookbandb.co.uk). This was about a five-minute walk to the airfield.

Next year will be the Paris Air Show, June 16-22, 2025. We will be back at Farnborough July 20-24, 2026, so you’ll have to wait until 2026 if you plan to attend this UK show. My insight will hopefully still be valid.

All photos courtesy of the author.