My wife gave me an airplane for my Birthday

I have been interested in flying ever since I can remember. Perhaps the interest developed because the Hindenburg passed over my house at a very low altitude, while my mother was in the backyard in Perth Amboy, two days before I was born. Maybe my interest developed because I was born and lived through the time of the Second World War. I don't know any young boy my age who was not making and playing with model airplanes. You needed one to play fighter pilot and win the war and save the world.

I think I could then name most of the American fighter planes from their pictures. My friends and I all collected Wheaties box that had pictures on them. I was living in the waterfront town of Perth Amboy at the time. There was this idea that we were vulnerable for attack by submarines and airplanes because of fronting on Raritan Bay where oil tankers passed through a deed channel on the way to New York City, and because we were an industrial town that produced or refined copper among other war needed materials.

One Sunday, while out for a drive after church and after dinner, my family stopped at the Hadley airport not far from our home. The people at Hadley were offering airplane rides to circle around the airport to young people. They offered what they called a “penny a pound” flights for young people. The deal was you stood on a scale, were weighed, and somebody paid a penny a pound to the management at the airport in exchange for the you being given a ride in a Piper Cub.

That ride was my first ride in an airplane. I was nine years old. I remember the excitement of sitting in the front of that little steel frame airplane covered with yellow canvas. The pilot sat behind me and controlled the plane from his seat. A second control lever rose up from the floor between my legs. I remember being told that I was not to touch it. I couldn't wait to tell my friends at school, and in the cub scouts, that I had that flight.

The next time I was in a similar airplane was near the end of my first year in law school in Ithaca NY. I had saved a little money from some photography work I had managed to get. I was about to be married in a couple of months to my college girlfriend who I had met Freshmen year at Oberlin College. I decided to treat myself to three flying lessons. If I recall, they cost about $35 each or three for $100. I paid the management at Ithaca airport for three lessons. I was celebrating my upcoming wedding, and that I had just landed a job that would cover the cost of the remaining two years of my legal education.

I remember the excitement of getting in that little plane with my instructor. I felt like I was back at Hadley.

We had already gone through the preflight check list, preliminaries of checking the plane for fuel and seeing that the controls worked when I moved the stick around. We cranked the propeller, got the engine started, and taxed out to the runway. We didn't have to go very fast in that little yellow plane to get to the speed where it took off. I think I drove by VW Bug almost that fast on the highways. We flew around the airport several times and came back and landed. Although in theory I was in control of the plane, I'm sure the instructor had his hands firmly on the control stick behind me. In fact at this point I'm not even sure if he was in the front seat or if I was.

A few days later I was back for my second flight lesson. Again all the preliminaries to make sure the plane was ready to go, and again we took off and flew around the area and came back and landed. I was allowd to land this time. A week later I returned to the airport for my 3rd and final lesson as part of this Bachelor Fling I had treated myself to.

I was shocked when I went into the hangar and saw my little yellow plane sitting there on the floor as a skeleton of pipes. Someone had torn all the yellow canvas fabric from the frame. I went into the office and found the manager. I asked him what had happened. He said FAA inspectors had come and checked out the plane. They condemned it as unfit to fly. To make sure that no one did fly it, they tore all the fabric off the wings and the body of the plane. The money for my third lesson was refunded. They had no similar plane in which to provide my lesson. I didn't fly again as part of a flight lesson, or as a pilot, until into my fourth year of law practice.

That's a whole other story that I will tell at another time. Enough to say at this point that I was given the opportunity to save Sky Manor Airport, after two law firms turned down the opportunity, early in my law career. As part of the successful settlement of that litigation with the power companies, in addition to my agreed fee, I was given a number of flight lessons. This time I flew a 150 Cessna. After a couple of lessons, I was given the opportunity to solo, which I did several times. What a thrill to take off, fly above my community, and land by myself. I never did complete getting a license as a pilot. I wanted to, but I realized at that stage in my life I could not afford the costs. I also knew that my responsibilities at that time to my family argued against taking the risk of flying around in that little airplane. But I will tell you at another time about the adventure of saving the airport and about my flying lessons at Sky Manor. Maybe I will even tell you about my son becoming a fully licensed pilot.