Dreams Take Flight - More Highlights from Ralph’s Flying Experiences

An Aeronca 7AC Champ
This is a continuation of stories about Ralph’s flying experiences. Read previous, related posts here, and here.

..........
Fast forward about 10 years. Now as a young father living in Wilmington, California, with his sweetheart Ella and twin babies, Ralph was working two or three jobs to support the family. At the time, one of those jobs was was working for a fellow in their church congregation selling dog licenses door to door.

While working one day in Hermosa Beach, California, he knocked on the door of a United Airlines pilot and they got talking about flying. Ralph thought, “Wow! That would be fun.”

So I agonized over it for a day or two and talked to [Ella] and said, I think I’d really like to learn how to fly, and she said, “Well, why don’t you do it? That will be your college.” I didn’t finish college, so whatever money we spent on my flight training, that would be my college education. Ok!

First Entry in the Logbook
Ralph began his basic flight training at age 23.

This is pilot logbook number one. So my first lesson was on February 8, 1957. Familiarization ride. And there’s all my training. [Pointing to the stack of 10 logbooks in front of us.]

Coincidentally, he trained at the Torrance Airport, formerly called the Lomita Air Field, that same spot where he would watch the planes come and go as a boy during WWII.(1)

 Over the next 5 months, when Ralph wasn’t working to support his family he was working toward the basic requirements of earning his private pilot license for a single engine airplane. The first part of his training was at the Torrance Airport with an instructor named Vern Young, flying in an Aeronca Champ. He later switched to train with the nearby Compton Flying Club, where he could fly for less: Airplanes rented for $4/hr versus the $7/hr at Torrance.

The requirements to earn a private pilot license in 1957 were not that different from what Ralph teaches to his students today, six decades later. That instruction included a minimum number of hours of flight training with an instructor, cross country flying (day and night), take offs and landings (T/O’s), solo flying, and passing a written exam.

 There are only minor differences between then and now, such as he recalls that he needed 35 hours of flight time, rather than the required minimum of 40 today, and the cross-country requirement was less as well. Additionally, there was previously not the emphasis on instrument training (in fact, most of the airplanes didn’t even have radios at the time and only major airports had control towers).

Image Source

Going Solo
When it was time for Ralph to fly solo for the first time, he went back to an instructor at the Torrance Airport. They started out with an hour of dual flying in the Aeronca Champ (Ralph as pilot with the instructor in the back), and the instructor said, “Do a good job today and I’ll get out and let you fly.”

 Ralph was quite familiar with flying out of Torrance airport, which characteristically had a crosswind. The advantage to that is the Ralph was comfortable flying with the crosswind - it didn’t bother him at all. But he learned he still had to be alert. Ralph related:

I was so used to cross winds at Torrance - I mean, it was always 15 degrees, you could count on it, the runway was runway 29, 290 degrees, I think, anyway it was almost east and west, and the wind would come around Palos Verde Hills and it was always a crosswind. It was anywhere from 10 to 15 knots, 15 degrees, off. 

So I’m going around and [the instructor] said, “Let’s do a couple touch and go’s.” So I’m coming around, this was a day there was no wind. Dead calm. I’m coming in, trying to slide the airplane down like this in the crosswind, and I’m having a hard time keeping it lined up. And he said, “What are you doing??” And I said, “I’m compensating for the crosswind.” He said, “Look at the windsock!” The thing is hanging like this [Ralph showed his arm hanging straight down]. “There’s no crosswind! Fly the airplane.” I straightened up and looked and sure enough! I made a couple of good landings and he said, “Have fun! Good luck!”

And that was on [checking his log book]...I had my first solo right there. 15 minutes, on April 15, 1957. Takeoff and landing, solo, check, ok.
The lesson that he learned that day? To fly according to the conditions you’re in. Don’t fly according to habit.

 Following his first solo flight, Ralph’s shirttail was then cut off, signed by the instructor, and hung up in the flight school. This is a tradition that is still carried on today. Why? Wikipedia has this explanation:

In American aviation lore, the traditional removal of a new pilot's shirt tail is a sign of the instructor's new confidence in his student after successful completion of the first solo flight. In the days of tandem trainers, the student sat in the front seat, with the instructor behind. As there were often no radios in these early days of aviation, the instructor would tug on the student pilot's shirttail to get his attention, and then yell in his ear. A successful first solo flight is an indication that the student can fly without the instructor ("instructor-less" flight). Hence, there is no longer a need for the shirt tail, and it is cut off by the (often) proud instructor, and sometimes displayed as a trophy.(2)


However, it's likely that any pilot will tell you a different take on the folklore that Wikipedia hasn’t documented yet: It’s because flying solo “scares the *&%$ out of you.”

 License in Hand and First Passenger
Five months after his first flying lesson, this is the entry in his log book:

July 18, 1957, go for checkride, private pilot, flight exam and return with private license.


And now for his first passenger:

Then my first ride right after that when I got my license, that’s where I took [Ella] up in the Luscombe, and that was [chuckling]...[her] first time flying and my very first passenger after I got my license. Same day.

A 1946 Luscombe Silvaire
So she got in the airplane with me, and it was this old...1946 model Luscombe. And the windshield was plastic, and it had been sunbaked in the summer, so this was summer, July 18, and I’m coming around on final approach and I turn westbound into Compton Airport, and as soon as I turned westbound, the sun hit that sunbaked windshield and it turned opaque. Just all white.

And I said, “Oh gee, I can’t see the runway.” I’m trying to look through this silvered windshield and around the side and everything, and I made BOOM, a hard landing. It didn’t bounce but it just hit hard. And I thought, “Oh, she’ll never ride with me again.” Do you know what she said? “I’ve seen you do better. Let’s go around and do it again.”


And so they did. “And it was so smooth!”
……….
From interviews with Ralph and Ella recorded at their home, on 9 February 2014 and 10 July 2016, with additional details shared over the phone on 29 April 2018.

 Notes & Sources:
  1. As a young boy living in Lomita, California, in the early 1940s (during WWII), one of Ralph’s favorite activities was lying on the grass in his front yard and watch the Lockheed P-38 airplanes fly overhead as they would take their final approach to the nearby Lomita Air Field. Read more about it in this blog post: http://greatflyingscots.blogspot.com/2018/04/trailing-clouds-of-glory-highlights.html.
  2. Read more about requirements for solo flights here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_solo_flight

 See Also:
Labels: ,
loading..