By Ellis M. Chernoff

It turns out 1984 still had more in store for me. Following the sudden shutdown of ConnectAir, I needed to find employment quickly.

Pilgrim Airlines in New Groton, CT, was looking to hire a captain, and I held a type rating in the F.27. I got an airline ticket to New York La Guardia Airport, where a pass was waiting for me at the Pilgrim Airlines ticket counter for a ride to Groton-New London, CT. This was my first flight on a Twin Otter.

In addition to the de Havilland DHC-6-100 fleet, Pilgrim also operated several early production Fokker F27-100 aircraft. The cockpits of these were different than the Fairchilds I had been flying, but that was of little concern. Also, the Rolls-Royce RDa-6 Darts were lower power than the RDa-7 versions I had been operating. Neither was an immediate issue since my type rating covered all versions.

When I arrived, the chief pilot was out flying the line. I was invited to self-tour the maintenance hangar and anything else I wanted to see while I waited for the evening flights to arrive, when I would be able to meet the chief pilot. I was impressed with the maintenance department; everything looked well-maintained and professionally run. However, as each flight arrived at the end of the day, each crew removed their insignia and proceeded to the airport terminal bar. Chart bags were lined up at the entrance, and all of the pilots gathered for drinks and hangar talk. This included the chief pilot. Clearly, this was a daily ritual. It struck me as less than professional for a whole bunch of pilots to hang out in the airport terminal bar drinking in uniform, albeit sans rank insignia.

The following morning, I had my interview with the chief pilot and rode jumpseat on a round-trip flight to Washington National Airport. The flight operation was professional enough, but the overall impression I got was that this was a loose operation that I didn’t care to move all the way across the country to join. I respectfully declined the employment offer and got a pass to return to California.

Soon after I arrived home, another F.27 position presented itself. This was with Air Cortez International. I had been familiar with this firm when they were operating Beech 18s and other light twins out of Ontario Airport. However, now they were operating from Las Vegas. When I went to interview with the Director of Operations, I was surprised that they were looking to hire a captain off the street. They had planes and first officers, but most of their captains were gone. The other thing that had changed was that while they set up operations in Las Vegas to fly tourists over the Grand Canyon, that business had dried up. The planes were stripped of their passenger accommodations and were now flying cargo on behalf of UPS.

I had many questions about their operations specifications, procedures, and manuals, but those were deflected and deferred until I met with the chief pilot who was flying the line out of Dallas. I was given a ticket to go there, and the following morning, I met the guy who would accompany me on a scheduled run to San Antonio while he gave me my line check-ride. I was shocked to find that there were at least four different printed checklists in the cockpit. All different.

In preparation for the walk-around inspection of the plane and preparation of the takeoff performance, I asked about the quantity of water-methanol on board. The chief pilot didn’t have an answer to that question. In all of my prior F-27 flying, water-methanol was used for nearly every takeoff.

The cargo was loaded by UPS personnel, and I was given the total weight of the cargo loaded. However, there was no information about how it was distributed, and the weight and balance document had only a single place to enter this vital information. So it was assumed that it would be evenly distributed. But this is contrary to acceptable preflight preparation. As expected, the acceleration down the runway was sluggish, but even more than I anticipated with the un-augmented power. The climb performance was equally poor. Arriving in San Antonio, I requested that UPS weigh the offloaded cargo as I suspected that it weighed more than they had documented out of Dallas. UPS refused to do the offload scaled weighing.

The return flight in the evening was similar to what was experienced in the morning, although I paid closer attention to the cargo weighing and loading. At the end of the day, I was signed off and good to assume regular scheduled flights for the remainder of the week. The next morning, I was met by a first officer who also didn’t seem to know anything about water-methanol injection. He conducted the preflight inspection while I supervised the cargo loading. The flight to San Antonio was routine. However, upon arriving at the ramp, there were several men in suits to meet this flight.

Even before the props had come to a stop, they had opened the cargo door and came into the cockpit, making demands. I told them they could exit the plane, and I would meet with them as soon as I had completed the post-flight checklists and briefed my first officer. These men were an FAA SWAT team of inspectors who demanded the flight manifest, maintenance documents, checklists, and, of course, my certificates. Evidently, this sting operation was weeks in the planning, and I was unlucky enough to be the Pilot In Command today. They claimed the Air Cortez checklists, weight and balance procedures, cargo tie-down hardware, and more were not approved, and the intention was to execute an emergency revocation of the company’s operating certificate. No wonder Air Cortez was in such a hurry to hire me and send me out on the line. Even I could see that the operation was barely adequate as a FAR-135 operation with light twins but totally inadequate as a FAR-121 carrier.

My first officer and I went to the hotel dayroom, and I started my round of phone calls. Thankfully, I had a lot of prior experience with the FAA and compliance. My honesty and credibility saved my pilot’s license. Usually, the FAA cannot take action against a company without also taking legal action against a pilot. But today, I obtained a compromise. The FAA would issue a ferry permit and allow me to return the plane empty to Dallas. It was an exhausting day, and the next day, I had an airline ticket back home.

The date was December 7; I was now on furlough. So ended 1984.

By Ellis M. Chernoff

Like all of my peers flying for small commuter airlines, we aspired to fly the big jets. Since about 1964, nearly all of the major U.S. airlines were flying fleets of the Boeing trijet. Serving as a second officer, or Flight Engineer, was the usual entry level for new hires. Very few airlines were hiring new pilots in the mid-1970s. To be competitive, at a minimum, an applicant must have passed the FAA Flight Engineer-Turbojet written exam. This exam was based on the Boeing 727 systems, limitations, and procedures. To be truly a standout applicant, a pilot needed to have the full FAA certificate. The airlines took advantage of the glut of potential applicants and expected pilots to purchase their own training rather than have the airline provide it upon employment.

Countless books and articles have been written on the history and characteristics of the classic Boeing. I need not repeat it here other than to say that I rode on my first one, a Northeast Airlines B727-95 from Montreal to Boston in 1967. My first jumpseat ride was on a United B727-22 from Charlotte on a multistop flight to Los Angeles in 1977.

Like most people, I prepared for the written exam with a study guide and attending a quickie weekend ground school. Only the very basics were explained, and many test question answers were pure rote memory.

By 1979, the airlines were finally hiring aggressively, and there was a rush to complete the full training and receive the certificate to land that coveted airline job. Since the course would be several weeks, it would not be possible to complete it on a vacation, so it was necessary to resign from one’s current employer. That came with the consolation that one’s dream airline job could be just weeks away!

So it was that I left Air Carolina and their fleet of Pipers and enrolled at Flight International in Atlanta. They operated a full school with classroom instruction, a cockpit procedures trainer (CPT), and a fully functional simulator based on the Delta Air Lines Boeing 727-232A version cockpit. It was a non-motion and non-visual simulator strictly for training flight engineers.

The classroom systems instructor really knew the plane, having retired from Pan Am on their Boeing 727s. The handouts and system boards were excellent for preparing for procedure practice in the CPT. This also built toward the required FAA oral examination. Finally, pairs of students were assigned to a “flight instructor” to learn to operate the systems in the normal, abnormal, and emergency procedures. I learned to know what every switch and gauge did and how to identify the results of every action.

Some procedures, such as Hydraulic Leak/Loss and Electrical Fire of Unknown Origin, were drilled again and again so the student flight engineer could isolate a fault in a system and restore as many functions as possible. Real system knowledge stuff. Strut overheat and Lower Aft Body Overheat were other classics drilled again and again.

Each student was scheduled for their closed-door oral exam with the FAA. This spread much anxiety as many guys did not pass or spent many hours being grilled and barely getting a pass. Not to brag, but when my turn came, the inspector gave me a performance problem first and then began the questions. In about 20 minutes, he asked a question I had never encountered before. He said, “I know they didn’t give this to you, but how do you think it works?” Before I could even answer, he told me I had the oral in the bag. I postulated an answer to his technical question, which was correct. We chatted for a few more minutes so it would not appear to the next guy that I had finished so quickly.

Since the simulator did not “fly”, it was necessary to do one more thing to finish up the exams. A Federal Express B727-22QC was rented in Memphis and six of us would go there and get 20 minutes each in the seat. Before the flight, we would receive a “differences“ training class and a walk-around preflight on the ramp. I would start an engine, run the after-start and before-takeoff procedures and checklists, the
pilots would fly once around the pattern, and after landing, I would restart the APU and do the after-landing procedures through an engine shutdown. The cost of this little ride worked out to $920.00 of the total tuition.

With another temporary FAA Airman certificate in hand, I could again start the process of applying to the airlines and hopefully land an airline job and start that long-planned for dream airline career. But that would not be how it turned out.

On May 25, 1979, American Airlines 191, a DC-10, took off from Chicago. The #1 engine detached from the wing, resulting in loss of control and a crash. All 271 occupants on board were killed on impact, along with two people on the ground. It remains the deadliest aviation accident to have occurred in the United States. The FAA subsequently grounded all DC-10s in service, resulting in nearly all airlines cancelling hiring and new hire training classes.

For now, my Flight Engineer-Turbojet certificate was useless paper in my wallet. Having given up my prior employment, I returned to my parents’ house and began again to look for any flying job I could get. Hopefully, I would get something where I could log turbine time. I already had plenty of PIC and Multiengine time. It seemed every interviewer would talk about what I didn’t have and not give me much credit for the experience and potential I did have.

For now, my Boeing 727 materials and knowledge would be stored away for another nine years.

Stand by for Round Two.