Learning to Fly in the 1940s
By Charlie Briggs
Charles BriggsAviation buffs read a lot of flying stories from pros who write articles on a regular basis. While often entertaining and informative, hearing from professional pilots sometimes lacks the real world experiences of the hundreds of thousands of aircraft owners and flyers who were never professional pilots, but simply lived with an airplane as a permanent family member. Such is the case with Charlie Briggs, a pilot for more than 65 years, having a career that included ranching, agricultural services and consulting, computer technologies and business concept development. In Flight USA invites readers to join Charlie as he reminisces about flying and life. You will experience a side of aviation that is informative, entertaining and personal. Enjoy.
My father was always interested in flying. He started flying Culver Cadets just as WWII occurred. Of course this stopped all private aviation. At the end of the “curfew,” after the defeat of Japan, Dad resumed his flying, mostly for business purposes. Being in the cattle “order” buying business, having your own plane was a real creative help, especially before the super superhighways and extensive commercial airline network matured.
The LuscombeIn the mid 40s he purchased our family’s first airplane, a 65 HP Luscombe from an early dealer in our local county. This was a Mr. Wilford Betzer, a car dealer too and rancher. It was in this plane I received my first 2 “lessons” in basics, which lasted about 45 minutes each. Being the exact plane my father flew, I learned fast.
To get to what served as an airport, I had to skip school with two schoolmates and drive across the county to the country pasture strip that was the “base” of Mr. Betzer’s operation. Just to add to the drama of the occasion, the left front wheel on dad’s old Ford lost three lug bolts, wobbled and just fell off. I was supposed to be at school with the car. (Trouble!)
Fortunately, we were within walking distance of a good farmer friend. Turns out she had and old ford pickup the exact size wheel and lug nuts, which she graciously contributed to our cause. Once installed, we were on our way again. (Dad continued to drive that car for more than 30,000 miles before trading it in for a new Ford without ever knowing about the misfortune!”)
The time just after WWII was a real reconstitution era. It was an era of industrial innovation and growth – the romantic time in civil aviation. A time of many daring early pilots and “airtrepreneurs.” It was the golden age of Aeronca, Ercoupe, Culver, Piper and others including the early Beech twins and start of today’s Cessna line. Interspersed in this era was the continuation of the Luscombe “Legend,” as the Luscombe 8A entered the market, a version of which is even in a period of renaissance today.
My flying career logically started flying with my father on cattle buying trips to Texas. Our base of operations was the little village of Protection, Kans. in the very southern central part of the state. My Dad’s new 65 hp Luscombe was hangared there along with two Ercoupes belonging to the local doctor, Dr. Glenn, and a manufacturer named Ben Filson.
Shortly after World War II there were several training programs for veterans including flight instruction for the beginner to obtain a Private Pilot’s license. One was set up at the local airstrip in an office in the newly constructed hangar – small but adequate. Even though I had taken two lessons in the Luscombe and had become “flight wise” by flying hundreds of hours, primarily with Dad at the controls, he still wanted me to get professional instructions and be licensed through a professional instructor.
So I enrolled in a professional training program, although it was much different than what one expects to see today. It was very informal with very few questions asked. The instructor, a Mr. Fletcher, knew my Dad and his Luscombe so he assumed Dad had taught me all the basics – wrong! The instructor’s training plane was a sturdy J-3 Piper Cub! I made my first solo flight after a total of one hour and 45 minutes of “formal” instruction.
The veteran’s pilot training program had ended and Mr. Fletcher was preparing to leave. I had spent $8 with him and I wanted my license. So he asked me if I thought I could handle the Cub for three landings to qualify for my student license. Having NO fear I answered in the affirmative. I jumped in the Cub, he propped it and, with little misgivings, I taxied slowly down the path to the grass runway. That was more than 67 years ago and I still get a thrill from remembering the time and the feeling when I first “slipped the burley bonds of earth.” However, things then got complicated a bit as was to be the case many times in my next 40 years of air venture.
I made my first “downwind” leg turning as in practice at set point for the base leg and then on to final. Everything was proceeding as practiced, except I was too high and was going to miss the runway!
Not to be disturbed, I got a plan, as I did many times in the years to come. It was only 12 miles north to our ranch and a big grassy pasture that I knew very well. I thought, “I will just go up there and practice one or two landings and then come back and finish off my solo Flight procedures.” I did and it worked!
As I came back to the airstrip the instructor was standing on the runway frantically looking for me and his plane. “No problem,” I wanted to tell him! I just lined up on the north-south runway and touched down. Then took right back off and made the proper three legs of the “pattern” and made as good a landing as I ever did later. Well, I qualified.
Meanwhile, the instructor (after throwing his hands in the air) went back to his little office and was filling out paperwork when I carefully brought the little plane back to the parking area. As he made out my certification for a license he had a bit to say. “Briggs, you are going to be a very good pilot, and also you are a very dangerous man.”
“Thanks” I said, and departed.
