Delmar Blvd 1947

Alvene, in 1947 we moved to Delmar Blvd., a beautiful neighborhood with its whitewashed trees lining the street. You were at least nine or ten years old and some of these things you will remember. The house you should remember had nine bedrooms, the large ones were used by our family and daddy rented out a couple. There were three baths, a living room, dining room, parlor, and a full basement. The vacant lot next door would soon be converted into our "airfield."

Daddy, along with the CAP, convinced the owner of the airport, a man I can only remember as "Midge" to allow them to build a clubhouse because much of the flying was done in the winter time due to the more stable air conditions.

The clubhouse, when finished, was no more than a large room with a picture window overlooking the airfield and tie-down area for the Piper Cub owned by the CAP, a restroom, and a large potbellied stove for heat. Out front was a long bench which we used in the summer.

Inside the clubhouse, we had this contraption called a "link trainer." This piece of equipment was a plywood aircraft simulator used by cadets to familiarize themselves with hand and foot coordinations upon control surfaces used in flight. Basically, an inexpensive way to train student pilots prior to actual flight. Link trainers of similar design were used by the Army Air Corps in training their pilots.

Most of our Saturdays and Sundays were spent at Lakeside. I took a part time job washing airplanes for Midge. Bubba was flying aerobatics in a Stearman PT-17 doing loops, slow rolls, stall spins, and inverted flight over Horseshoe Lake a few hundred yards from the field.

In 1948, at age 20, Bubba wanted an airplane of his own like most kids of today want a car. He would ride his bike out to Lambert Field to look at surplus Air Corps trainers. One day he came home and told daddy about this Fairchild Primary Trainer, PT-19, that was for sale for $600 and needed some repairs.

Bubba took daddy, Cookie, and I to take a better look at the airplane. The aircraft mechanic on duty told daddy that the main wing spar was weak and that it would take at least $1,000 to make the ship airworthy. Daddy gave the owner a deposit, signed some papers, and the deal was set. Bubba would have his own aircraft ready for flight in about a month.

Bubba was working in a toy manufacturers shop molding small toys and he was saving every penny that he could to help daddy pay for the 19.

Bubba, in anticipation of his first flight in this open cockpit aircraft, went to an Army surplus store and purchased a brown flight jacket with a sheep's wool collar, a leather flight helmet, a pair of goggles, and a white silk scarf. He would pose in front of our bedroom mirror, proud of himself, and would say, "I'll be a Mustang pilot someday." I would tease him and say, "You'll get an FW-190 on your tail, then what?" We would spend the best part of the next hour arguing, Mustang versus Focke Wulf, with Cookie plugging the Thunderbolt.

Bubba took delivery of the bright green PT-19. He and Mr. Johnson were to fly the aircraft from Lambert Field to its new home at Lakeside. Dressed in his flight jacket, leather helmet with large goggles, and a white silk scarf around his neck, he was ready to fly. Daddy, Cookie, and I drove to Lakeside so that we could take a ride.

Contemporary flying of today with closed-in cockpits is no comparison to flying in an open cockpit airplane with a small windshield in front of you, strapped with seat and shoulder belts, you could feel the wind in your face. Needless-to-say, we burned a lot of fuel that day.

Bubba formed a flying club called the "Flying Wolves" and a few of his high school friends joined to share the expense of maintaining the aircraft. I remember Arthur Johnson the most, a tall lanky fun-type fellow whose family owned a barbecue joint near our high school.