Thank you, John, welcome aboard, sure hope you can tell us some more “war stories”…..I’m just about out!

Dale g

Hi there George,

I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but I worked for you as an flight instructor at Hartlee Field in 1973-74. I first met you in July of 1973 when I flew into Hartlee Field (from Dallas AirPark airport) in a rented Cessna 150 specifically to take my Commercial license flight check from you. (As I recall, it was July 20th, 1973.. and yes I passed, thank you.) I got my CFI about 6 weeks later, and you graciously then gave me the opportunity to begin instructing in your planes at Hartlee. It was my sophomore year at North Texas State, and I was deliriously happy to finally be building flight time and having someone else pay for the plane. The easy-going country atmosphere of Hartlee Field was also pretty intoxicating to a city-slicker like me at the time. I just loved the place.

An easier way for you to remember me perhaps, would be to recall the time when your school Cessna 172 was flown to Washington, DC, by a student of mine who had just taken his Private flight test with you. He had his wife and child with him, and somewhere over the Shenandoah Valley, that 172 blew a jug. The engine (I suppose) still had partial power, and the new Private Pilot (Elroy Cantrell) kept his wits about him and successfully got it down at the Shenandoah Valley airport without a scratch. He and his family then flew home commercial. Of course, that stranded your crippled plane at this airport in Virginia. Well after about a week, it was still up there awaiting repairs. I offered to go get it, and even offered to pay my own airfare if you would pay for the gas to bring it home to Hartlee. You were very glad to accept that offer. As I recall, this was in the fall of 1974.

To fast forward a bit..

I continued to instruct in the Dallas area until 1979 when I was hired by Rio Airways in Killeen. After five and a half years at Rio, I was fortunate enough to be hired by American in 1984. I am now retired from American and am living in my native Canada.

Retirement has given me lots of time to reflect on the past. I often wonder about what happened to all the people I knew, and friends I made, during my time at Hartlee. As I said before.. I just loved the place, and I would love to make one of the reunions.

Anyway.. to make a long story short, I googled your name the other day, and lo and behold that led me to a picture of you at the Iqaluit airport taken about 10 years ago. (Holy cow George.. Iqaluit?.. really?) The article with that picture mentioned the Hartlee Times newsletter. (What a great idea, btw.) In turn, the Hartlee Times has given me your email address, and also the welcome news that you are still active and enjoying life at 90. That’s wonderful.

Please let me know how you’re doing George, and if you remember me. If you don’t, I have more stories about Hartlee that might jog your memory some.

All the best.

Sincerely,

John A. Mackenzie
Vancouver Island, BC

Such was the case when Butch Lynn showed up at Hartlee in a neat aluminum Luscombe, nicely trimmed in green. When asked by the owner down in South Texas what the airport in Denton was like, Butch readily described the Denton Municipal Airport, three thousand feet of concrete. The owner, as payment for a nice polishing job on his Luscombe, invited Butch to take a flight up to Denton. Of course, Butch jumped at the chance and flew straight to Hartlee Field, with its twenty-five hundred feet of cows.

Things went well as Cecil Charles hopped in with Butch and floated around in the sky awhile, then shot a few landings. Later came Dale Gleason, eager to see what a hot eighty-five horse Luscombe was like. On final approach, this young crew (who would later have a total of over thirty-seven thousand hours between them just in Boeing 727s alone) had come to a “decision time”. With two herds of cows, one on each side of the runway, was there ample room between for a landing? “Hey, no problemo.” However, as the intrepid little plane that thought it could approached the gap between the two herds, Ol’ Bossie, (or was it Elsie?) opted to run hell-for-leather to the other side! Maybe she wanted to check on Herman, the airport Holstein Bull, but that is Woody Liljedhal’s story….…

Using the brakes, the Luscombe started left, then ground-looped in a tight left circle. The left axle had broken! A sad spectacle remained on the runway as two dejected pilots headed for the Juicy Pig to report the incident to George Vose, enjoying his dinner.

Inspection revealed the axle had already been broken off previously, then re-welded in a non-approved, non- professional manner. As a matter of fact, the whole left gear had been damaged and just sewn-up with a bead of weld, completely concealed by the landing gear fairing. “Hap” McDaniel, Hartlee’s senior A&E mechanic for years, installed a new left gear and strut, prop, accomplished some sheet metal work, and repaired the plane as it should have been in the first place. The owner, whose name is long forgotten, got his airplane repaired at the young men’s expense, and elected to fly it back to its South Texas home himself.

We learned about flying from that.

dale gleason

Addendum: Mr. Harte, enjoying his I. W. Harper on his perch atop the hill, saw it all unfold, and was fairly sympathetic, after all, “Bossie” (or Elsie) was unscathed, pretty darn fast for a lazy cow.

Having called Meacham Tower and receiving light signals to land, I complied, taxied to the parking area and chocked “Four Deuces” and headed over to the terminal. This was the home of Acme Study Guides. Going upstairs to the FAA office, one could take a written exam, and if there were any questions on that written not covered in the Study Guide, they would pay five dollars for such information. This left them open to high jinx, but I know of no one who took unfair advantage of this offer. So, armed with five dollars, I enjoyed the best hamburger and fries in Ft. Worth. Calling the tower for departure, I informed them that “Piper J-3 N42222 will be departing northbound for Denton in fifteen minutes.” “I don’t think so”, came the reply. Uh Oh! “What’s wrong?” The Cub had been blown out of the chocks by a Twin Navion being run up on the flight line. The Cub’s tail had been damaged when it struck the tip tank of a parked Cessna 310. I ran to the scene, jumped upon the wing of the Navion and pointed to what was happening. The fellow said the Navion wasn’t being run up for the purpose of flight, so he wasn’t responsible. (Now, what did that mean?) The damage to the Cessna’s tip tank was substantial (I recall the Cessna owner’s name was “Dusty” Rhodes). Stunned, I called George, who came and picked me up. The maintenance facility doing the work on the Navion took responsibility, did all the repairs except left the Cub’s tail in silver. There were students ready to fly and yellow dope would have to wait. “Four Deuces” sported that shiny silver tail for quite a long time. A model Cub was built and presented to George Vose…complete with a silver tail.

Another wonderful feature of the Meacham terminal was the office and printing press of “Cross Country News”, Tony Page, proprietor. She was the greatest! She was the real deal, an aviatrix. (Look that one up!) The “Powder Puff Derby” in her Cessna 140 was one of her favorites. I stopped by her office one day to see about the cost of an ad in her Classifieds. She noticed I was rather dejected….I confided my girl had abandoned me. I thought perhaps an ad begging forgiveness would bring her back. Tony didn’t charge for the ad, I recall it read something like, “Linda, please don’t be mad at me. For what I paid for that ring, I could have rented a 210 for an hour!” Well, I’m happy to say the ploy worked, Linda and I were married in early 1965 and remain so today, the power of the press…..

I have to confess that my “editorial stance” at times resembles that of Tony Page. Rest in Peace, Tony.

dale gleason

Dale Gleason may well have been the last student pilot to gain his Private Pilot license using the Ft. Worth Low Frequency Range to demonstrate proficiency in radio navigation. “Four Deuces”, not being equipped with on board navigation radios (those new-fangled VORs), carried a Zenith portable radio (non-transistor) with low frequency capability, just above the baggage compartment. (“Four Deuces” didn’t even have an electrical system, and remains so to this day.) Two headsets allowed the pilots to listen to the “beam”. Most readers who’ve gotten this far are familiar with LF procedures, but, perhaps some will read further….

Pilots, once upon a time, were required to be somewhat familiar with Morse Code. “A” is “dit dah”, “N” is “dah dit”. (As an historical note, in 1965, UAL required its new hires to pass a timed Morse Code test demonstrating twenty-four more letters in addition to the “A” and the “N”.) If one heard both an “A” and an “N” in Morse at the same time, the two signals melded into a steady tone….thus the “beam.” (“Three dits, four dits, two dits dah, Wichita, Wichita, rah, rah, rah!) But, I digress…..)

In Dale Gleason’s case, Robert Brooks, a co-pilot with Central at the time, was the FAA examiner, and he instructed Dale to fly North, intercept the East leg of the FTW Range, navigate the “beam” to the station, and report overhead. Not being sure he could hear the radio, Gleason inquired if Brooks needed more volume. No, it was ok…Gleason noticed he wasn’t wearing his headset. As the “dit-dah” began blending with the “dah-dit” a left turn and roll out on a westerly heading put the ship on the beam. No directional gyro here, but he knew from Mr. Vose’s training that he could roll out on heading exactly when the “whiskey compass” showed “W”. Had it been the North or South leg, he would have undershot North or overshot South by thirty degrees. Everyone understands why. Right? Back to the “beam”, it was fairly easy to maintain at first, the station being about ten miles away, but as they got closer, the least amount of drift would suddenly become all “dit-dah” or vice versa. Butch Lynn, who had preceded Gleason a month or so earlier, had ended up doing steep lazy eights over the station, and Gleason didn’t want to fall into that trap. The “beam” faded away, then came back loudly, he told the examiner they were over the “low cone”. Examiner Brooks laughed, Gleason passed..

Robert Brooks’ Private Pilot check ride required two segments. For the “instrument” portion, the Cub had to be specially outfitted, as it had no instruments for IFR…… IMC, whatever…. A venturi was installed, and it drove a Turn and Bank instrument as long as enough speed was maintained, somewhat faster than normal cruise, probably about 70 mph indicated. Unusual attitudes, as they progressed, usually placed the airspeed well in excess of that, drove the gyro well enough that a recovery could be made, “needle, ball, airspeed.” No hood was worn. Instead, an orange, transparent plastic “windshield” was taped inside the actual windscreen. Two smaller like panels covered the little side windows. So now the pilots saw an all-orange world out the front….. until the student pilot put on his transparent blue goggles. Then all he saw out the windows was pitch black, while his instrument panel and cockpit environs were all blue. “Sneaking a peak” out the corners was almost impossible.

Most of the checks in the Cub were conducted at Mangham airport, an uncontrolled field. Flying into Meacham, an airport with a control tower, required “special handling.” After landing at Mangham, or Saginaw, a telephone call was placed to Meacham tower advising the ETA and airplane description. Upon nearing Meacham, the tower flashed its steady green, flashing green, flashing or steady red signal light, the pilot would refer to the handy card Mr. Vose had provided to see what the signals meant and proceed accordingly. Dale Gleason carried that little reference card for years on end, always ready, but it was never called into service. Well, once maybe, but that’s another story.

All these modes of aviating in a Cub seem so archaic, but as technology caught up to “Vose Flight School,” the yellow Cub stepped aside for a modern, well equipped, high speed Tri-Pacer.   N3808P

dale gleason

After serving in WWII as an Army flight instructor, George Vose had a decision to make: Should he accept the pilot’s seat offered by All-American Airlines, or continue his work in the human health field? After weighing the pros and cons, he passed up the airline job and chose to pursue a field that would be of more benefit to humanity. He ultimately became a research professor at Texas Womens’ University. His electron microscopy work with Dr. Pauline Beery Mack in Bone Biology led to multi-million dollar NASA grants designated to further the knowledge of effects of weightlessness on the human skeletal system. It was crucial to know and understand these effects to insure the safety of our astronauts. Vose’s research and published technical papers for the National Institute of Health had led to early insights into osteoporosis. I well recall his discovery of the “canaliculi”, small conduits in the bone structure, visible only with the electron microscope.

The recent note sent by Al Jones (Hartlee Times #21) reminded me of good friend Jackie Oden, which in turn brought back memories of how NASA indirectly paid for some of our flying lessons. NASA paid twenty-five dollars each for X-rays of volunteer’s hip bones, taken alongside a wedge of aluminum encapsulated in a block of clear polyester resin. How this apparatus worked was known only to the inventor, George Vose. Always eager to aid in space exploration, how could Jackie or I refuse such an opportunity? (Plus, we could use the dough.) Whenever Gemini astronauts landed in the planned ocean, George Vose was on board the aircraft carrier to greet them, checking for bone mineral loss in their zero G environment. Once, after a computer failure, the astronauts landed manually in the Indian Ocean, missing the primary retrieval point off Hawaii by a continent or two! (Upon having overheard someone ask George about his work at TWU, I blurted out, “Oh, he dissolves bones in nitric acid”, perhaps the biggest faux pau of my life…..)

Well, to sum things up, when the Albert Einstein Medical Center in Philadelphia sought George Vose and his talents, he opted to remain at Hartlee Field, enabling his continued contributions to medical science, at the same time enabling thousands to discover flight.

He began flight instructing Army Air Force cadets in 1943, instructed twenty-three years at Hartlee Field and continues flight instruction to this today at his retirement place in Alpine, in faraway West Texas…..that’s gotta’ be some kind of record.

dale gleason