A real homebuilder!



Now here's a story about a real airplane homebuilder. His name was Kenneth (I don't know his last name) and he lived in northern Idaho, amidst the tall pines and fresh smell of sawmills. As a matter-of-fact he worked in one of these mills, as the pond boy. His job was helping unload the logging trucks, dumping the logs into a holding pond, and then separating the various types of trees for later sawing. He enjoyed hopping from log to log, pushing and pulling the lengthy vessels into position, with an occasional slip into the pond to cool off. Kenny was 17, an orphan, and lived nearby, paying room and board with a local farmer, spending most of his free time reading.



He subscribed to many magazines some of which were aviation types. He had developed an interest in airplanes and after reading some articles from a magazine on home built airplanes decided he could build one of those things. You have to keep in mind that he had a limited education and had quit school at age 15 to go to work in the mill. He didn't make much money at this job, just enough to pay his room and board with a few dollars left over to see an occasional movie, when he went to town on weekends. Not many years before he had built model airplanes from balsa wood and still had some of the plans for them. He deduced that if a model would fly then it stood to reason a full-size version would fly. He got permission from the farmer to use a large storage shed and set about cleaning it out, building two work benches from scraps of lumber he hauled home from the mill. He borrowed some tools from the farmer and bought others.



On his trips to town he bummed butcher paper at the meat market, using this to transpose his full-size plans, gleaning ideas from the airplane magazines. While he was doing this he kept bringing home scraps of lumber (hand selected by himself of course) and carefully sorted and stored them in the rafters of the workshop. The plans for his airplane were nearly finished and he was using eyeball engineering to determine the metal fittings and such. He kept these to the bare minimum, such as the motor mount, axles, and tailskid. He figured his biggest outlay of money would be for the engine. That is until he took a closer look at the farmers old rusted-out tractor behind the shed.



The tractor was almost hidden by tall grass and weeds and it took him half a day to clear it out so that he could get a good look at it. Checking with the farmer he got permission to remove the engine and other parts, and in a couple of days had the engine disassembled and cleaned. It was a small four cylinder Ford engine, designed for high torque, and had many hours on it. But the beauty of this type engine was the ease and low cost of overhauling. The cylinders had sleeves that are easily replaced and with a new set of rings the engine would be ready to run again.



Working overtime at the mill, and doing odd jobs for neighbors, he soon had enough money saved to buy the sleeves and rings. He replaced the bushings and bearings, whenever he could afford them, and in a few months had the little engine perking away. This project kept him occupied for several months and during the cold winter days he carefully sawed and ripped strips of wood for the spars, longerons, stringers, and such. Each piece was marked and stored aside for future use. On some weekends he hitched a ride to town and spent hours at the local airport, gawking at airplanes, gathering a head full of ideas to use on his project. Finally, one spring day came and he set about building his airplane.



Kenny made many mistakes but fortunately he had an almost inexhaustible supply of wood, from the sawmill, and it was free of cost for the most part. By the time summer rolled around he had become a semiskilled carpenter and airplane maker. His main capabilities though were his persistence and ability to not become discouraged. For example; when he had the fuselage almost completed and the tail assembly hung, he discovered there was no way the wing spars would fit the attach points. (He had selected the model plans for a Curtis P-40, and modified them along the lines of a Fly-Baby.) He puzzled over this dilemma for the better part of two weeks, until he woke one morning with the idea of a parasol wing.



As soon as he got home from work that evening he did some more eyeball engineering and decided that it would work just fine. Like I said, he had gumption! It was the next spring before he had his cantilever parasol wing ready for covering, having used the previously made ribs. These ribs he'd built the same way as he had the model airplane ribs, without reinforcing gussets and cap strips. He'd already made all of the wing struts (wooden of course) during the winter months and he set about assembling his airplane in front of the shed. It sat there, a skeleton for sure, but it looked like a real airplane to him. He did the usual hanger flying, visualizing his helmet, goggles, and the long white scarf flowing out behind the cockpit.



It was time now for him to cover it, but he had sense enough to know that he couldn't use tissue paper like on the model planes he had built. So, the next weekend he hitched a ride into the airport to ask questions. I guess I should tell you a bit more about this young fellow, so you can get some insight into his personality. Kenny wasn't much of a talker but a real good listener. He was a bit shy and it did take some nerve for him to ask for help. I suppose he was a little ashamed of his lack of formal schooling, and it showed when he tried to explain something technical. He usually wound up drawing a picture, or pointing to the thing he was talking about. And, when on this particular morning he asked the airport operator what he needed to cover his airplane with, he was directed to a mechanic in the hanger.



When he entered the hanger he saw his potential benefactor fussing over a stubborn wing fairing. With trepidation he slowly edged his way over and quietly stood there, waiting to be recognized. After a few moments the mechanic turned and saw this awkward looking boy and asked what he wanted, sort of gruff like. The lad swallowed hard and in a rather squeaky voice explained as best he could. It was obvious to the mechanic that the kid was dead serious and he kind of liked his spunk, so he sat down on his toolbox and started asking about the young mans project. As Kenny became less tense he began a torrent of words trying to describe what he'd been doing the past three years. He stumbled over words he'd read in the books but didn't know how to pronounce. Such as; fuselage; which he pronounced 'fuss-a-lage', with a hard 'a'. The mechanic swayed between amazement and dismay as he bore this verbal tide. Finally the youngster ended with,


'and so, I'm wondering what kind of stuff do I cover it with?'



He stood there waiting for the hapless mechanic to tell him what needed to be done, but it was a few moments before the mechanic said anything. His reply was,


'Tell you what, why don't you come around at five and I'll go out

and look over your airplane.

This was to the young man's liking and he gave a wide grin as he said,


'I'll just do that!'



While Kenny walked back into town the mechanic went back to fixing the fairing on a Cessna 180. His name was Parley Case and I first met him years before in Seattle, where we both worked for Boeing. Well, sure enough, about 5 p.m., Kenny came walking into the hanger and made his presence known to Parley. Shortly, they were driving out to the farm in Parley's Studebaker. Kenny, though usually shy and quiet, was rattling on about his airplane and was anxious to show it off to a real airplane mechanic. When Kenny pulled open his workshop door and revealed his airplane to Parley it took some time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. But as they cleared he stood back and slowly looked from right to left.



His first gaze was to the wing skeleton hanging from the rafters, with the ailerons drooping on each end. The next thing he scanned was the fuselage, however, the unusual shape of the full-cantilever wing drew his eyes back to that area. It wasn't until he remembered that Kenny had mentioned the plans for a P-40 that it clicked and the tapered wingtip form made sense. Walking over slowly, with Kenny one step behind, Parley began to scrutinize the wing. Several things stood out like sore thumbs that made it obvious this was a killer airplane, such as the lack of gussets and capstrips. But, the ingenuity and workmanship had Parley in it's grip, and he made mental notes. He was painfully aware that Kenny had bitten off more than he could chew, but silently he looked over the fuselage. The careful attention to precise fit and uniqueness of the whole project made Parley think this kid had some potential and deserved help from him. Trying to praise, and at the same time point out some rather dangerous things, Parley gave Kenny a thorough briefing on his project. Telling Kenny to come into town the next day for some books on airplane building, Parley then drove off in the Studebaker.



After this critique Kenny sat down on a sawhorse and mused over what he had just learned, trying to keep the lump in his throat from choking him. He had been sure that he was near completion on his plane but now it was there in black and white. It was still a long ways off before it would fly. However; we mustn't forget the tenacity this young man, because instead of sulking, he took up some tools and started in on some suggestions Parley had made. It was long after supper when Kenny went to bed. The next day was Sunday and Kenny caught a ride into town with the farmer, who was taking his family to church. Hiking out to the airport, where Parley stayed in a trailer-house, he knocked on the door and roused the mechanic. Kenny had a short chat with the him and left with an armload of books and manuals. One of these was the C.A.M. 18 manual, while others were how-to books from E.A.A. (Experimental Aircraft Association). Envisioning the tons of knowledge bound by these books he headed back to the church to catch a ride home with the farmer.



It was several days before Kenny spent any of his free-time away from his room, reading and rereading his new found treasures. It wasn't long before he came to realized how naive he had been in thinking he'd be able to build and fly his own airplane, without some expert advice and help. A couple of weekends later found Kenny asking Parley how he could get in touch with other airplane builders. The mechanic gave him a flyer which was posted on the hanger wall, announcing a up-coming fly-in at a nearby airport, sponsored by a local E.A.A. Chapter. On the flyer was the name and address of someone to contact about the matter, and Kenny rushed home to write a letter. It was a couple of weeks later when he received a reply and inviting him to the next meeting of the club. It took a bit of arranging, but Kenny caught a ride after work on Friday, with a co-worker who commuted each day, to the town 45 miles away where the meeting would be held. The co-worker had made a promise of a bed and board over the weekend.



The next day Kenny went to the meeting, held in one of the members garage/workshop, and introduced himself. He suddenly found himself among others who instinctively knew what he felt, deep down. He found he didn't have to try to come up with the proper words to express an idea, because these people knew what he was talking about, right off. When they spoke he understood, and Kenny was where he needed to be, among friends who shared that special feeling for building airplanes. Kenny didn't miss a meeting of this chapter, even during the winters when snow was three to four foot deep. He always managed to find a way to get there. And from the beginning of his new found friendships with these homebuilders he came to realize his pride-and-joy he'd been working on for the past several years was beyond salvaging. There simply were too many flaws built into it that couldn't be corrected without rebuilding from scratch. Besides, the club lent him plans to another design that he knew he must build.



While the original project hung suspended from the rafters of Kenny's workshop, he spent the next few years building a Woody Pusher. But now, he had access to Parley for expert advice, and his E.A.A. Friends for counsel on things they best understood. Eventually; Kenny went to work for Parley, earning his mechanics ratings, and building other projects in his spare time. One day, years later, the farmer who Kenny used to board with, asked him what he wanted to do with that thing hanging from the rafters in the shed; as the farmer was going to tear it down and build a new and bigger shed. He gave it a few moments of thought and then told the farmer to burn it along with the other weatherworn wood from the shed. Later, when he mentioned this to Parley, his mentor told him:


'You know, don't you, that he's about to burn the thing that

found you your niche in this life!'

With a sudden feeling of tightness in his chest Kenny sensed the loss and borrowing Parley's car made a beeline for the old farm. He made it in time to retrieve his first project and it's still hanging, gathering dust, after all these years, from the rafters of the hanger where Kenny works.




Click HERE for next story or HERE for main menu

Last Updated on April 29, 2002 by Ed Gravley

This Site has been visited:

Times

Now Playing: Rainy Days and Monday! Carpenters




Copyright 1975 1998 (c)

Disclaimer: This story, and all other stories of WHISPERING SMITH are solely from the imagination of Ed Gravley. Some of the ideas were suggested by accounts he had heard from various sources and were embellished for your amusement. The names have been changed so as not to embarrass any particular individual, except perhaps the author. Any, or all of these stories may be copied for personal use; but not for the purpose/s of commercial profit.

1