May 2004

Greetings, Members!
Rain is sure wonderful for our pastures and gardens, but it makes it hard to fly Young Eagles. Last year we had a beautiful weather window at Houston for the Emmett Kelly Clown Festival and flew 81 kids. This year it rained or drizzled all day, so we had to be "no shows." So much for a start on our goal of 200 Young Eagles this year. The grand total so far this year is 1, a young lady who took a ride with Bob Bohemier. Unless, of course, any others of you have given rides that you didn't let me know about—yet! Our last meeting day, at Mountain Grove Memorial Airport on April 10, it also was cold and dreary and wet feeling. No barbecue grill and no eating outside and no flying in. But we were happy to enjoy the comfort of the recent progress on the pilot lounge. It feels "just right." The Mountain Grove group is doing a great job on it.

Photographs by Sue Kalhoefer
Henny Christensen, VP, & Kent Clotfelter, Secretary, are "all business" as they lead the business meeting.

Wright Flyer Update
The big event since our last meeting was the "hanging" of the Wright Flyer in the ticketing area of the terminal building at Springfield-Branson Regional Airport. It looks terrific. The word is that a special display area for it will be planned into the architecture of the new terminal building, which will be in about six years. The first work session was on Wednesday, April 14, during the day. A small group from the Chapter went to the airport to mount the "engine," really a dummy for display. That was interesting. The main portion of the Wright Flyer was behind a drop cloth curtain in the charter terminal. The rest of the structures were sitting in a side room. Occasionally, airport employees would come over to the area to check on progress and chat for a few minutes. In the second session, on Tuesday evening, April 20, a larger group of Chapter members who went to SGF to reassemble the whole airplane, swarmed over it like a hive of busy bees and quickly got it ready to ratchet up to the ceiling. Then the process of raising it up there began. Things were pretty tense for a while, and the plan to have a strap attached to the canard as well as the main wing spars didn't look good. It was lowered back to the floor, where it was decided to attach to the main spar on one wing and the front spar on the other wing, then try again. This allowed better balance of the weight and took away the need to attach to the canard. It actually looks better, too, more like the airplane is in flight. Over the long haul, though, it will put an undesirable twist on the airplane's frame, and needs to be fine tuned. Bill Ghan has been in touch with Rob Hancik, the airport manager, about this. During the process, even though it was in the evening when traffic has greatly thinned out at the airport, several members of the flying public stopped to watch the process for a while. One of these people was a man who said five generations of his family, including himself, had learned to fly in the same Piper Cub. Now his son is learning to fly in it. Of course, there were other people who walked by without so much as turning their head, looking as blandly disinterested as they could.

Bob Brantley and Bill Ghan mount one of the propellers on the Wright Flyer at Springfield-Branson Regional.	Bill attaches the chains around the sprockets. Note the dummy engine and generator.
The group works very quickly to reassemble the Wright Flyer in preparation for raising it to the ceiling at Springfield-Branson Regional Airport. Then, the process of lifting it begins. It was both exhilarating and tension-filled to watch.

		Photographs by Sue Kalhoefer

The Future of Airports
On a side note, in the April 24, 2004, issue of the News-Leader, there was a front page article about a developing "land grab" over a parcel that SGF has in their master plan for growing the airport to meet future needs. No matter how you feel about Springfield-Branson, particularly in regard to their status as Class C airspace now, this issue is squarely within the problem of people's propensity to buy and build near airport traffic areas and then start complaining about the noise and perceived danger. We should all follow this story from now on.

Hangar Committee Meeting
We now have a "new wrinkle" to consider with regard to a Chapter hangar. It is that Springfield-Branson Regional Airport has offered us a hangar. Kent Clotfelter reports, "I got a call from Bill Ghan. He had just returned from meeting with Rob Hancik, the airport manager, …to discuss detail of how to better suspend the Wright Flyer.

"The airport has two 100' by 100' quonset-type hangars that they have dismantled to clear space. They are complete, with all materials, and have had plans made during dismantling to show how to reassemble them. Bill Ghan thinks they have sliding doors with them. Rob Hancik told Bill that the airport would donate one of them to our Chapter, as a tax exempt foundation, if we would take it, and haul it away. One hangar is already targeted for the Air National Guard to use as a museum. They are in good condition, and may only need some minor rust removal, and or touch up paint. This hangar would be 2½ times the size of the proposed 50' by 80' hangar we are considering, and free for the cost of shipping is very attractive. Suddenly we are going from no hangar to two possible Chapter hangers.

"If we are interested we need to move fairly expeditiously as one of the hangars has already been targeted by the National Guard, and other tax exempt organizations are likely to move on this if we don't." This topic will be discussed at the May meeting. The Hangar Committee will present the pros and cons.

Safety Seminar
A small group of Chapter 1218 members, including Len Ahrnsbrak, Jerry Luna, Bill Newton, John Smith, Jim Walker, and myself, attended the AOPA/ASF seminar called "Maneuvering Flight—Hazardous to Your Health," on April 26 in Springfield. It was an interesting and entertaining way to deal with an otherwise boring subject. The speaker, Mark Grady, was very humorous. He has over 7000 hours in a C-152, and a lot of time in the Goodyear blimp. The point he drove home was to make you consider the level of risk and your chances of getting into an accident if you indulge in certain types of flight behavior. No matter what you are doing, the lower you are flying, the greater the risk. So stay up there, folks.

Chapter 1218 members who attended the ASF safety seminar in Springfield. Mark Grady (front, second from left) was the speaker.

Member News
Every day we keep up our prayers for Charles Lee Ward, son of Charlie Ward. He suffered a setback in his recovery at one point, after having done quite well initially. Also, don't forget to hold Cheryl Butler and her family up in your prayers.

Planning for AirVenture 2004
Oshkosh will be upon us soon, sooner than we realize. A call has gone out for volunteers:

People from around the world come to EAA AirVenture Oshkosh for primarily one purpose: to look at thousands of aircraft that converge on Wittman Regional Airport. To protect these airplanes—and spectators—the POP (Protect Our Planes) Team monitors flight line activities to make sure visitors abide by the time-tested Oshkosh rules: no smoking except in designated areas, and no food or drink within 10 feet of any airplane.

POP now seeks volunteers to join its team from Monday, July 26th (the day before the convention) through Sunday, August 1st. POP patrollers must be at least 14 (ages 14-17 need a parent/guardian with them) and enthusiastic. No experience is necessary—all you need is a smile—and there's a place for people of all fitness levels. It's a great way for families and/or groups to enjoy EAA AirVenture "from the inside." If you're interested in volunteering, e-mail ProtectOurPlanes@yahoo.com or visit http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ProtectOurPlanes.

Our member, Arnold Zimmerman, who lives at an airpark in Downers Grove, Illinois, has put out an invitation. He said in an e-mail for the newsletter, "The offer is still open for anyone going to Oshkosh in July. Fly into Brookeridge (LL22) spend the night ("RON") and then off to Oshkosh. I'd welcome any 1218ers." His telephone numbers and e-mail address are in the member directory.

May Meeting
Our next meeting, on May 8, 2004, will be held in the café across the street from Gainesville Memorial Airport (H27). Although the announced meeting time is 10:00 a.m., that is actually after a Dutch treat breakfast at the café. You will miss the fun if you don't come early to eat with the gang. Hopefully, good weather will prevail and you will be able to fly in. But please don't decide not to come if the weather forces you to drive. The folks from this "corner" of our membership area oftentimes have to drive all the way to Willow Springs to attend meetings there. Let's show this group of members that same level of support by being there. Also, we often have guests from the EAA chapter just over the Arkansas border come to this meeting.

And now, just for entertainment, we have another Booley story. So, enjoy!

It wasn't much of an owl that took up residence in the attic of Booley's shop. Its brownish feathers were worn and tattered and its horns were a miserable grey. It sat high in a corner, its calloused talons gripping the I-beam that it was using as a perch. One of its eyes slept while the other roamed cautious and wary.

Booley was sitting on his worn shop stool when I came in. His shaggy hair hung loosely about his forehead and he was making a whistling sound, sucking air through that wide gap in his two front teeth. When he saw me, he reached out protectively and picked up his beer. I felt admonished, his doing that. Why, I had just turned me over a whole new leaf. Green side up! I had made me a New Year's resolution not to drink me no more beer. No sir, and that was a fact!

Anyways, here it was Saturday, and old Booley was sittin' there on that rickety old shop stool, nodding up at that owl, pausing only long enough to wipe some of the suds away from his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He squinched his eyes up and pointed his beer at the owl. "You know, Arnold boy, I been sittin' here doing me some thinking about that old hooty owl up yonder." He leaned back and set the beer on the work bench. I looked at it. The beer, I mean. It was still frosty and the bubbles was still coming from the bottom of the bottle.

"Hummph!" I snorted, tearing my eyes away from the bubbles. "He don't look none too wise to me, least for an owl, he don't." I had noted the disarray of forelocks and that one big cold looking eye that seemed an unwavering deterrent to disaster. Booley turned on his stool and sorted through some stuff until he found a handy sized bolt which he tossed aimlessly in the direction of the rustic old owl. The eye that had been sleeping suddenly popped itself open and feathers fluffed about its neck. It shifted its position uneasily upon the I-beam. Booley turned on the stool again and sorted through some more junk and found another bolt. This time he weighed it carefully in his hand. He slid from the stool and took better aim before throwing. But the sagacious old owl saw the bolt coming and with a mighty shove, pushed itself away from the I- beam and dived straight toward the open air vent. Its strong wings arched themselves against the wind as it swooped toward the out of doors. And old Booley, he just stood there grinning. "Holler bones," he announced in a knowing voice.

My mouth was getting like cotton it was so dry. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't just swoosh a little of Booley's beer around in my mouth just to wet it up a little. That wouldn't be breaking no New Year's resolution. Just swooshin' wouldn't, I didn't think. But Booley must have been reading my thoughts because he reached out and picked up his beer.

"Holler bones?" I looked up, still reflecting upon the bubbles.

He gulped some down and I watched his eyes water up. Then he patted his stomach and burped the gas away. "Yep, that's how they can fly the way they do, Arnold boy. Why, them bones is just as light as their feathers is!" Then he paused for a moment as though he had just this moment discovered a very great truth. He turned to me. And he was grinning when he said it. "You want a beer, Arnold, boy?"

Well, sir, my mouth was awful dry all right. So I nodded and went to the cooler and got me one. I remembered my resolution and began swooshing it around in my mouth. No sin in that. No sir! And for someone who had just chunked a bolt at a tired old bird, Booley seemed unusually happy and said that he had to go someplace for a while and whyn't I just get myself another beer. So I did. I had me another, just like he asked me to. Not that I wanted one, but because I didn't want to offend no one, least of all a good friend like Booley whom I had always considered to be of the finest genius quality.

Anyways, when he got back he had an old junked up bicycle frame, some long cane fishing poles, a big roll of chicken wire, and a great big old croaker sack filled clear to the brim with chicken feathers. Now it ain't every day somebody comes home toting a bag of chicken feathers, and I did think it was a bit unusual, so between swooshes, I asked, "Whatcha gonna do with all them feathers and stuff, Booley?"

Old Booley, he just kinda cut his eyes up at me and grinned, and I could see the excitement dancing in them. "I'm gonna make you famous, that's what!" And with that he began sorting out everything and laying it all out on the shop floor. I accidentally swallowed my swoosh. I should have known the minute that he threw that first bolt that Booley was going to try to fly again. I looked at my hands. They were trembling. They always did that whenever I was about to become famous. I went to the cooler and got me another beer and began swooshing it around real hard.

"Whoo! Whoo!" I said a little while later, observing Booley's handiwork. "Why, I guess that's about the biggest old hooty owl I ever did see in my whole life, Booley." And old Booley, he was proud. There it was all right! A great big old hooty owl with two big glassy eyes, a sharp beak and covered from tip to tip with chicken wire and feathers. One of its cane fishing pole wings sagged a little and the other drooped mechanically to the floor.

"Ain't that about the best lookin' ornithopter you ever did see, Arnold boy? Yes sir, this time you gonna really be famous!" He was sucking air through the gap in his two front teeth again. Just like he always did whenever he was real excited about something. "And girls, why Arnold boy, there's gonna be a line of girls a mile long just waiting to hug and squeeze you and pull you to their bosoms! Yes sir, you gonna really be famous, all right!"

Hot dogs! All that talk about girls and huggin', and squeezin', made me clear forget to swoosh again. I had just swallowed the whole beer!

Well, sir! It was almost sunset whenever we got to the train trestle that spanned old Diablo Canyon. Far, far below, the frothing waters crashed against the stony depths and the white waters eddied off into muddied pools where it boiled and seethed into darkened potholes. Booley dragged that old hooty owl thing out of his pick-up truck and it flopped to earth in a great cloud of dust.

"You sure this thing'll fly, Booley?" I asked, peering inside the skeletal chicken wire body. Two long levers dangled out of nowhere and a narrow bicycle seat and a set of pedals were attached to a sprocket that drove a long arm that disappeared into the feathery wing. He was grunting as he pulled the thing up the tracks. Each time it struck a wooden railroad tie it bumped and feathers flew in the swirling winds. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. "All you got to do is just pump them pedals and pull on them levers. One's for turning the other's for flopping. You get tired," he gasped. "All you got to do is just lock them levers forward and you just float around chasing the sunset. Ain't nuthin' to it!" he said, tugging at the bird again.

The sky was all red and the sun was just a fiery ball being swallowed up by the horizon when I heard the whistle of that freight train coming. It sounded like thunder on a greased rail and I wondered what them two engineers was going to think when they rounded that curve and come face to face with a big old thirty two foot hooty owl with a man inside just sittin' and swooshin' beer. An' then I heard Booley's voice. He was jumping up and down on the top of his pickup-truck. He was shouting and laughing like sixty. "Yahoooooo!" he kept hollering. "You gonna be famous, Arnold boy! This time you gonna really be famous! All you got to do is just push off just like that old hooty owl done. Just jump and pump, Arnold! Jump and pump! An' don't forget to wave at all them pretty girls when you fly by!"

"Whoo!" I shouted back. "Whoo! Whoo!"

But first I swooshed me another beer.

See you all on Saturday at the meeting!

May Meeting Announcement