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1956 - 2023, Celebrating over 65+ Years of Service

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Excerpts from
AAHS Journal, Vol. 61, Nos. 4 - Winter 2016
Table of Contents

  • 2017 Annual Meeting Announcement
  • A Trio of Porterfields Trek Across Time - Jerri Bergen
  • Sandy’s Story; Supplemental Airlines and Saturn Airways - Sandy J. Wickham
  • Wolf Pack vs. the Red Star; Deception, Attrition and Redemption over North Vietnam - Jeff Erickson
  • Winged Enforcement: Aviation and West Virginia State Police Operations - Merle T. Cole
  • Cable Airport, 70 Years of Service - Larry Bledsoe
  • Sentimental Journey, The Air Fields of the Sixth Air Force; Rio Hato - Dan Hagedorn
  • The Curtiss-Wright CW-20 Goes To War - Michael West
  • Forum of Flight - Tim Williams
  • President’s Message - Jerri Bergen

  • 2017 Annual Meeting Announcement

    February 3-5, 2017


    Make room on your calendar for an exceptional weekend of aviation friends and history, at the AAHS Annual Meeting, February 3-5, 2017, at Gillespie Field, San Diego!

    AAHS invites you to explore the San Diego Air And Space Museum restoration hangar annex, enjoy an afternoon of history lectures at the beautiful Allen Airways Museum, and antique aircraft fly-ins of the Antique Aircraft Association.



    A Trio of Porterfields Trek Across Time

    Cable Airport Begins with A Porterfield
    Cable Airport (CCB), the United State’s largest privately-owned public-use airport, is seven miles northwest of Ontario International Airport, in Upland, California. Nestled against the San Gabriel Mountains, the airport was built in 1945 by Dewey Cable, an enterprising mechanic who, in addition to his day job as a foreman of the P-38 maintenance depot at Ontario Airfield, had a vision of owning and operating his own airport. Dewey, a ‘get-it-done’ personality, undertook the task of building an airport that 70 years later encompasses 160 acres, 500+ aircraft and a family tradition of friendly flying in Southern California (see article ‘Cable Airport – 70 Years of Service’ in this issue).

    The first aircraft that landed on the gravel mix runway of Cable Airport on May 5, 1945, was a 1939 CP-50 Porterfield, owned by the Cable family. Today, Cable Airport is home to three Porterfields -- a 1941 CP-65, NC37895 owned by my husband, Chris and I, a 1941 C-75, NC34837, owned by Harold Dyck and Bob Cable, grandson of Dewey Cable, and a 1940 CP-65, NC25590, co-owned by Mike Polley and Bob Cable. These three Porterfields represent a small but relevant snapshot of the development of general aviation training prior to WWII, and today demonstrate the usefulness of these aircraft for training and plain old fun flying.

    The Man Behind the Porterfield
    The business mind behind this trainer was Edward Everett Porterfield Jr, not an engineer, but a successful Kansas City, Mo., businessman, who had already made a name for himself building biplanes as the American Eagle Aircraft Corp. in the 1920s. The mid-1920s saw the aircraft industry quickly building up, due in part to the passing of the Kelly Act of 1925 that allowed the U.S. Post Office to contract out mail transportation services to private carriers. This created an element of financial security for the commercial operators of air mail routes. Aviation development increased rapidly, as predicted by several aviation experts such as Gen. “Billy” Mitchell, for both passenger and cargo transport. Contractors to the U.S. Postal Service could carry revenue passengers, but the priority was the air mail offered for transport.(1)

    Porterfield, who was born in 1890 in Kansas City, Mo., was the son of a local circuit court judge. He learned to fly in 1925 in a surplus Curtiss JN-4 Jenny, which he nicknamed a ‘flying coffin,’ at Richards Field, Kansas City, Missouri. Porterfield was already a successful entrepreneur having turned a used car business and a Ford dealership into one of the largest business concerns in Kansas City.2 He felt that both aircraft and aviation training facilities were lacking, and that. . .

    Patriotic colored Porterfield trio in fromation over Blakesburg

    Sandy’s Story; Supplemental Airlines and Saturn Airways

    December 1967
    I sat cross-legged on the sofa in front of the picture window that looked out upon a peaceful scene of blue water, sailboats, and white cloud studded sky. The scene belied the unrest nagging at my insides.

    Settled with a mug of hot black coffee I spread the classifieds section of a San Diego Sunday edition newspaper across my legs. Reluctantly, I started skimming the help wanted listings. As I muddled through my task my eyes fell on one ad with words that seemed lit with neon flashing lights offering an answer to my current dilemma. It read something like this: Flight Attendants needed for an international charter airline. Must be free to travel. Second language helpful but not required. Saturday in-person interviews. Call (telephone number here), Saturn Airways, Oakland Airport, California, for interview appointment.

    A prospect of income and adventure! Time out for travel while paying off my remaining college debts. Sipping my coffee I mentally jumped ahead, giving myself permission for this time out even before dialing the telephone number. When I did telephone I mentioned that both Jeannie Taber, my friend and roommate and I, Sandy J. Wickham, would be interested in an interview.
    It had been a stressful several weeks. Jeannie and I had entered disturbing career territory with the announcement of our upcoming transfer orders: an issued interim change of station duty for Jeannie with my direct station orders to come unexpectedly in only a couple weeks. Each of us was advised our regular orders would be to a field station somewhere in Vietnam.

    Our positions were with the American Red Cross (ARC) at Naval Hospital, Camp Pendleton, Calif., and were the first professional positions following college graduation for each of us. Jeannie was an ARC Case Aide and as such provided welfare services to active-duty military service personnel. By military request in the interest of elevating morale, the ARC added a variety of recreation therapy programs in military hospitals, installations and in the field. This is the work I did as a Recreation Aide at the hospital. Jeannie had been at the hospital for a year and I had been there only six months, but the war in Vietnam was expanding with increased military force build-up and demand for auxiliary services.

    Prior to our meeting at the hospital Jeannie and I had not known each other. Now we shared a small rented beach house in Carlsbad. Jeannie had successfully negotiated a lowered rent for the coveted beach house in exchange for minimal care during our off-season residency.

    I had worked my way through a difficult five years to earn a college degree and felt pleased and rewarded when I landed the ARC position, which required that degree, just prior to graduation. In my current quandary about my future I felt the need to grub again through want ads for employment possibilities as I had done for my five years through college. Self-supporting and resourceful, I had always found jobs to pay the bills. But I took pride in my employment with the ARC. A “position” rather than a job. Now that position seemed to be coming to a crashing end with my hard work toward . . .

    Sandy Wickham in her Saturan uniform

    Wolf Pack vs. the Red Star; Deception, Attrition and Redemption over North Vietnam

    The exploits of the legendary Col. Robin Olds and the “Wolf Pack” of the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing during the Vietnam War are well known among military aviation enthusiasts. Colonel Olds’ skill as a fighter pilot and reputation as an effective combat leader, earned during three decades of distinguished military service, are held in high regard by peers and historians alike. The story of his principal adversaries in

    Southeast Asia, the pilots of the fledgling Vietnam People’s Air Force (VPAF), is not well known in the West. Preeminent among these pilots was Capt. Nguyễn Văn Cốc of the 921st “Sao Do” (Red Star) Fighter Regiment, the top scoring fighter ace of the Vietnam War. On January 2, 1967, the destinies of these two formidable air warriors converged during a brief and decisive air battle over North Vietnam. This encounter ended in a lopsided victory for the “Wolf Pack,” but that was not the end of the story.

    The North Vietnamese learned important lessons from this devastating defeat and the VPAF proved to be resilient and resourceful in recovering some measure of initiative in the air battle. Strategy and tactics employed by the opposing forces continued to evolve throughout the remainder of the war, with tactical advantage shifting back and forth repeatedly until the withdrawal of U.S. combat forces in 1973. The lack of a decisive outcome in the air reflected the political and battlefield stalemate on the ground, and too many dedicated airmen on both sides perished in pursuit of unachievable goals.

    In March 1965, the United States commenced large-scale offensive air operations against North Vietnam. Operation Rolling Thunder was an intensive and sustained bombing campaign designed to halt the flow of men and materiel into South Vietnam and persuade the North Vietnamese regime to cease support for the communist insurgency in the south. Rolling Thunder missions targeted industry, storage facilities, transshipment points, lines of communication and air defenses. U.S. Air Force and Navy combat aircraft struck at the heart of North Vietnam’s military and industrial infrastructure with ever-increasing frequency and devastating impact on the Hanoi regime’s capacity to make war. A large proportion of USAF bombing missions over North Vietnam were flown by F-105D Thunderchief fighter/bombers (known as “Thuds”) operating from bases in South Vietnam and Thailand.

    In response to this onslaught from the air, North Vietnam gave top priority to strengthening and expanding its air defenses. With massive aid from the Soviet Union and Communist China, North Vietnam fielded a powerful air defense system to challenge U.S. air dominance. At the core of this system was a network of early warning radars and surface-to-air missile sites, armed with the deadly S-75 (NATO SA-2 Guideline) missile. High value target areas were also defended by an array of anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) ranging from 100mm radar-directed guns to rapid fire 23mm, multi-barrel automatic cannons and heavy machine guns. This state-of-the-art air defense system presented a formidable threat to strike aircraft and was responsible for a large majority of U.S. combat aircraft losses over North Vietnam.

    North Vietnamese leaders also took steps to establish a force of fighter/interceptor aircraft, using equipment and pilot training provided by their Soviet and Chinese sponsors. The Vietnam People’s Air Force (VPAF) received its first jet fighter aircraft, the Soviet designed MiG-17 (Chinese J-5) in February 1964. Initially based in China, these aircraft equipped the first operational jet fighter unit, known as the 921st Sao Do Fighter Regiment. The MiG-17 was a subsonic, post-Korean War design and variants supplied to the VPAF . . .

    Col. Robin Olds

    Winged Enforcement: Aviation and West Virginia State Police Operations

    As events matured, the West Virginia State Police (WVSP) did indeed become the beneficiary of aviation support within two years. But nearly six decades were to pass before the agency acquired and operated its own aircraft.

    The prolonged struggle over unionizing the state’s southern coal fields came to a violent head in late August 1921. Igniting the largest insurrection in the United States since the Civil War, thousands of miners left camps along the Kanawha River and marched into Logan County. The state’s National Guard had not yet been reorganized following the Great War, so the “Miner’s March” was confronted by a mixed-bag defending force of deputy sheriffs, mine guards and civilian volunteers. The legislature had recently expanded the two companies of state troopers authorized by the 1919 Creative Act to four. Col. Jackson Arnold, State Police Superintendent, led all the veteran and newly recruited troopers who could be spared to reinforce the defenders. Logan County Sheriff Don Chafin was directing the defense. He employed a makeshift “air force” for reconnaissance purposes, and even managed to drop a few homemade bombs on miner positions. There were no known fatalities from the 13 bombs reportedly dropped, although the miners were forced to retire from some of their positions. Use of the bombs was predictably excoriated in union publications. Ironically, one of the defenders’ aircraft crashed into and damaged a private home in Logan city on August 27.(1)

    More significant was the appearance of the U.S. Army Air Service. First on the scene was the irascible Brig. Gen. William L. “Billy” Mitchell. He flew in from Bolling Field, D.C., on August 26 to coordinate air support for the army general who was in Charleston, the state capitol, representing the president of the United States. The president had issued an order for the miners to disperse and return to their homes, or face federal military intervention. Mitchell saw an opportunity to demonstrate that air power could be used to suppress civil disturbances. He reportedly boasted that the Air Service could handle this problem on its own. When asked what methods he would use against “’masses of men under cover in gullies,’” Mitchell replied that he “’wouldn’t try to kill these people at first.’” Rather, he would “’drop tear gas all over the place. If they refused to disperse then we’d open up with artillery preparation and everything.’” The marching miners initially complied with the dispersal order. As tensions eased, Mitchell returned to Bolling Field the next day.

    But further incidents caused the miners to resume their march on Logan County. When they failed to comply with the president’s September 1 dispersal deadline, the Air Service reappeared in West Virginia, along with elements of several infantry regiments and support troops. Mitchell dispatched the 88th Squadron, 1st Provisional Air Brigade, from Langley Field, Va., under command of Maj. Davenport Johnson. The general stayed behind at Langley to concentrate on preparations for tests to prove that his aircraft could sink major naval vessels. Johnson led 17 DH-4s and two Martin MB-2 bombers . . .

    West Virginia State Police officers pose infront of one of their mounts.

    Cable Airport, 70 Years of Service

    In the Beginning
    Cable Airport is the largest privately owned airport open to the public in the United States and was started in 1945 by Dewey and Maude Cable. It is currently owned and operated by Dewey’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

    In the beginning, as WWII marched to its conclusion, Dewey Cable set about making his dream of having his own airport a reality. He considered several different locations in southern California in the area now known as the Inland Empire area. He finally settled on 80 acres of rocks and shrubs north of Foothill Boulevard, between Upland and Claremont.

    Dewey talked the owner into selling it to him for $8,500, which was much less than the original asking price. It took all of Dewey and Maude’s savings to make the purchase, as the banks would not loan them money to develop the airport because the property, being watershed, was subject to flooding. Being the resourceful person he was, Dewey turned around and sold 12 acres to the Holiday Rock Co. for $8,500, which gave him the money he needed to start construction. Another 40 acres was purchased in 1948 and the final 20 acres in 1956.

    When it came time to start runway construction, Dewey was again frustrated by uncooperative banks and unwilling contractors. Contractors, looking at the rugged terrain with deep gullies, huge boulders, and rocks of all sizes, said it would cost a fortune to build the runways and quoted accordingly. That didn’t stop Dewey. He went ahead and built them himself.

    He rented two bulldozers and a carryall, and bought an old pull grader. With the help of his wife, two children, and some hired help he began construction on the first runway in March 1945. Thirty days later (for a fraction of the cost one contractor wanted) the first 1,200 feet of runway was completed.

    Dewey had chosen to fill one of the eroded north-south ravines first, because it was the easiest to do. This became runway 1-19. Of course, it did have a steep 3.5% gradient, and the prevailing winds were across the runway instead of parallel. But that wasn’t a problem for an experienced pilot like Dewey. Besides, the important thing was that he could use it now, while the other longer runway was being built!

    Dewey used the dozer to clear the boulders and the grader to level the runways. Maude Cable drove a truck and hauled equipment. Roger, his son, who was seven, marked outlines for the runway, which was no easy task because he was not tall enough to be seen from one point to another. Many times he had to stand on the top of the old Model T truck. Millie, Dewey’s daughter, was 13 and kept track of topsoil being delivered from the nearby rock quarry at 50 cents a truckload.

    The First Landing
    Dewey was not a patient man and was anxious to be the first to use “his” airport. As soon as he had cleared 1,200 feet, he went over to Brackett, where he kept his Porterfield, took off and headed home for the first time. The date was May 23, 1945.

    It was a short flight to the strip he and his family had carved out of the San Antonio Wash. It looked small from the air, but Dewey saw the future and it was huge.

    Everything appeared fine as he came in on final. But the runway had just been watered and he didn’t see a large rock that had been upended by the water truck. He flared expertly and had just touched down when one wheel hit the rock and was sheared off. The plane kept going, finally skidding to a stop. Upset but undaunted, he moved the plane out of the way and continued construction of the runway.

    There was no stopping now. The family reserves had been spent and the only way to survive was to get the airport operational. Dewey, Maude and the children worked from sun-up to sun-down seven days a week to finish the runway. It wasn’t long before it was 1,500 feet long and improved to a point where other planes started coming in.

    One of the first to arrive was Everett Bronson, who became their first tenant. He flew his Aeronca Chief in shortly after Dewey made his first landing and stayed. Through the years he has changed planes, but not airports. Bronson was Cable’s first tenant and continued to base his planes there throughout his flying career. At the age of 81, in 1996, he was still actively flying his Piper Comanche 260.

    Maude made sure everyone was greeted with a smile. No one could turn down the Cable hospitality and welcome . . .

    Cable Airport, circa 1954.

    Sentimental Journey, The Air Fields of the Sixth Air Force; Rio Hato

    When I arrived at Howard AFB, Canal Zone (CZ), in a torrential rain aboard a USAF Douglas C-118 in 1965 – 20 years to the month since VJ Day – and checked in with the Army liaison at the terminal, the very first question the duty driver asked me was “Are ya’ headed to Rio Hata?” I learned very quickly that, although it was properly called “Rio Hato,” U.S. service personnel in the Canal Zone referred to this mysterious place invariably as “Rio Hata.”

    Although I subsequently visited Rio Hato on many occasions by air and did a bit of exploring, thereby demystifying the destination, I will never forget the first expedition to the exercise location there as a member of the headquarters staff of the 193rd Infantry Brigade, based at Fort Kobbe, CZ. We wound our way some 80 miles west via convoy over the WWII-built Pan American (sometimes cited as Inter-American) Highway through terrain that ranged from tropical jungle to twisting mountainous precipices to semi-flat terrain that seemed very much like parts of West Texas. Upon arrival in the lead vehicle with Maj. James E. Bopp, the Brigade’s adjutant, I was struck by the fact that the highway neatly bisected the main runway of this legendary airbase, a fact which resonated through my subsequent historical investigations. As I drove slowly across the breadth of the primary runway that hot afternoon, I had no idea of the history of the base, or the role it played during WWII.

    Early Beginnings
    The site of what became the Rio Hato aerodrome lies some 55 to 60 air miles (about 80 by land) southwest of what was Albrook Field (Balboa), CZ. Located on one of the few plains in the Republic and relatively free of the pervasive jungle often associated with this area of the tropics, one of Rio Hato’s primary allures has been its nearly year-round flying weather, which for the region could be described as exceptionally good. The subsequent “discovery” of this area contributed greatly to the safety of flights to the Canal Zone. Its almost sea-level, flat approaches and prevailing visual-flight-rule (VFR) weather conditions prevailed almost 100% of the time – even during Panama’s notorious rainy season – a quality in the area beyond value for countless airmen. As events unfolded, by 1945, more than 40 auxiliary aerodromes were established throughout Panama and the region to aid in the defense of the vital Canal; however, Rio Hato was the very first outside the Canal Zone itself to gain Army attention.

    As early as 1916, the U.S. Army’s Panama Canal Department operated a disciplinary camp in the Rio Hato area, the first known instance of military interest in the area. As the Inter-American Highway was still more than 25 years in the future, access must have been torturous and via surface vehicle up the Pacific coast from the Canal. The majority of the land in the area was actually owned by a Danish citizen, Peter Hans Kierluff, doing local business as the Cia. Agricola La Venta, S.A. When he realized that his inability to transport produce to the closest market, Panama City, limited his dream of creating an agricultural empire in the area, Kierluff established a primitive airstrip on his land as early as 1923. Although the area is known to have been used as an artillery range as early as 1924, Kierloff, being something of an entrepreneur, recognized in short order that the destination was nearly ideal for U.S. Army Air Service and U.S. Navy pilots on local training flights from France Field and the Coco Solo Naval Air Station on the Atlantic end of the Canal. Furthermore, Kierluff correctly anticipated that cold, . . .

    Living quarters at Rio Hato, CZ, in 1942

    The Curtiss-Wright CW-20 Goes To War

    When France was invaded in 1940 and Italy entered the war, Britain found itself cut off from its empire and the free world with few transport aircraft capable of reaching even neutral Portugal. All civilian aircraft orders (including nine Douglas DC-5s) had been cancelled by Government Minister Harold Balfour when war was declared, but by fall 1940 Britain was again shopping in America for airliners with a decent range. Balfour was aboard the second BOAC flying boat service* to La Guardia in August 1940 and he persuaded Juan Trippe of Pan American to sell three brand new Boeing 314 “Clipper” flying boats at over $1 million each. These had the range to reach Bathurst (Banjul) in British Gambia (if necessary non-stop, from the U.K.). These Boeings, which they named the Berwick, Bangor and Bristol, arrived in May 1941. (* The service, using Short ‘Empire’ boats, had to be abandoned after five round trips. Balfour reportedly was acting on his own initiative and was criticized by Churchill over the unauthorized purchase of the “Clippers.”)

    In 1941 Britain was allocated some 18 Lockheed and Douglas twins second hand by the U.S. for the trans-Africa route from Gambia and Nigeria to Sudan and Egypt. These were flown to Africa via Brazil by Pan American Ferries. In a separate deal Pan American Africa was contracted by Churchill to operate an airway across Africa for the British using Pan American aircraft. BOAC commenced their Atlantic Return Ferry Service, between Prestwick and Gander, with stripped down early B-24 models (LB-30s) in 1941.

    Other types offered to Britain by Hap Arnold in the 1941 allocation talks (to speed up the return of American contract ferry pilots) included a Boeing B-15, a Curtiss CW-20 and a DC-4. The DC-4 offer is a puzzle -- perhaps the DC-4E prototype, sold to Japan in 1940, was still showing on Arnold’s list of surplus transports? (The first production DC-4/C-54 did not fly till 1942). The B-15 did take up transport duties, but with the USAAF in the Panama Canal Zone. Of the three, only the Curtiss CW-20 prototype fitted with long range tanks, registered G-AGDI and named St. Louis, materialized at Prestwick, Scotland, in September 1941. It had been ferried across the Atlantic by BOAC Captain A.C.P. Johnstone after a payment of £70,000 ($280,000 back then).

    BOAC first used St. Louis on a flight to Lisbon, Portugal from Whitchurch, Bristol, on December 12, 1941, returning next day. On December 27 it flew Whitchurch-Prestwick-Whitchurch then back to Prestwick on December 28, not returning to Whitchurch until February 14, 1942. After a day trip to Hurn on February 24, it was positioned to Filton, Bristol, on February 28 returning to Whitchurch on March 2.

    St. Louis next flew via Filton to RAF Portreath, Cornwall, for fuel on March 6 reaching Gibraltar on March 9. It then proceeded onward to Bathurst, Gambia, on March 11, a . . .

    Curstiss prototype CW-20, G-AGDI, being refueled in North Africa

    Forum of Flight

    This issue of “Forum of Flight” is focused on aircraft as an artist’s canvas, whether it be pure art or advertising. Examples can be traced back to the earliest of flights (“VIN FIZ” advertising on Cal Roger’s 1911 transcontinental Wright EX), extending through WWI (Richthofen’s “Flying Circus”), the Golden Age, WWII (rendezvous, recall aircraft and nose art) up to present day. We’ve chosen to focus on some of the more recent uses of aircraft as a canvas – in both the military and civilian world – that represent special commemorations or were done for marketing/promotional purposes. In at least one case, Western Pacific Airlines, even used their aircraft as flying billboards receiving a fee for displaying the promotion. We hope you will enjoy this slightly off-beat use of aircraft.

    The FORUM is presented as an opportunity for each member to participate in the Journal by submitting interesting or unusual photographs. Negatives, slides, black-and-white or color photos with good contrast may be used if they have smooth surfaces. Digital submissions are also acceptable, but please provide high resolution images (>3,000 pixels wide). Please include as much information as possible about the image such as: date, place, msn (manufacturer’s serial number), names, etc., plus proper photo credit (it may be from your collection but taken by another photographer).

    Send submissions to the Editorial Committee marked“Forum of Flight,” P. O. Box 3023 Huntington Beach, CA 92605-3032. Mark any material to be returned: “Return to (your name and complete address).” Or you may to wish have your material added to the AAHS photo archives.

    Japanese Air Lines 747, JA8084, in 50th anniversary paint scheme.

    President's Message

    AAHS is all about looking back, preserving the photos, news and products created by aviation innovators, both famous and unknown, in the U.S. and the world over. 2016 saw the loss of one of those innovators who made an indelible mark on our aviation history, Bob Hoover.

    Robert Anderson ‘Bob’ Hoover, considered “the greatest stick and rudder man who ever lived” (quote from Jimmy Doolittle, a famed pilot and record breaker himself), was a “pilot’s pilot,” a WWII combat pilot, a successful test pilot, an instructor, demonstrator, record setter and innovator (he’s considered one of the founding fathers of modern aerobatics); who’s life history personally touches many of the aviation accomplishments of the last 75 years.

    Bob passed away on October 25, 2016, at the age of 94, leaving behind an enormous legacy of aviation accomplishments, too many to list here. But one of the most relevant of Bob’s accomplishments, in my mind, was his interest in sharing and promoting aviation, both its past and future, to others.

    How many of us remember attending an airshow with Bob, in his usual flat-brimmed Panama hat, strolling toward his Aero Commander, chatting with children and pilots alike, before taxiing out and performing amazing aerobatic maneuvers that made the audience gasp? Or, be one of the rapt attendees at the “Bob Hoover Birthday Party” events, held annually at EAA’s Oshkosh airshow, where Bob, around a campfire, would relate true aviation stories that were the stuff of Hollywood movies.

    But, amazing history is also made by those unknown aviators, whose life touches other people in the same way, albeit in a smaller scale (see the story on Dewey Cable, and Cable Airport in this issue, as an example).

    It’s AAHS’ honor and privilege to document these histories and give a voice to aviation stories both big and small. We’d look forward to hearing your story in future pages of the AAHS Journal!

    Jerri Bergen