New Page 7

Aviation in the 50s
The first time I remember anything about airplanes was when I was around 3 or 4 years old and we were still living on Princess Place Drive. The house was right in the landing pattern for the main runway at the time. There was still what was left of a small airplane that had gone down in the woods between the airport and our house. This was rumored to have crashed sometime during WWII. It was a small single engine plane; probably what the Army called a L-5 or something similar.
After we moved to Mercer Avenue I still could enjoy the sounds of the airport, in those days the aircraft stay low as compared with today’s aircraft. Back then we had two major airlines flying from Wilmington, one was National which would leave Wilmington by the 60's and leave us with only one airline. This airline was Piedmont and back in the 50's they flew the DC-3. On a cool morning you could hear them revving the engines as they made their way down the runway. Back in those days you could ride your bicycle over to the airport and actually walk out on the parking area and take pictures if you were careful to stay out of the way. If you went inside the terminal the ticket agents would always be willing to give you a Piedmont Airlines luggage label. Over the years there is no telling how many of these labels were given away and now they are selling from $3.00 on up on EBay. Airports have changed in many ways but some of the things I miss most is the deep throbbing sound of those old rotary engines straining the get those old machines into the air or at night seeing the green and white airport beacon light that could be seen for miles. Now you can hardly see the beacon light if you are at the airport and the planes scream with jet engines and even the ones with props have a high pitched whine of a turbine engine, seldom do you hear the musical sound of a rotary engine these days.
Posted by ESO on Friday June 8, 2007 at 11:28 PM

Things that seem so unimportant during one point in life during a later time in life hold some of our sweetest memories.

The bridge that crossed Burntmill Creek near the railroad tracks is just one of those little unimportant places that takes a little space in my memory that at the time of my youth was just another object that went unnoticed on Mercer Avenue.

For me it was where I went to spend many a summer afternoon sitting for hours on the cement side of the bridge watching the small fish swim and water spiders walk across the small stream. Those little long legged critters always amazed me walking on top of the water. We would fish or build a dam out sticks and rocks or what ever was available near by, making a small swimming hole to play in. On a hot summer day there wasn't a cooler spot on Mercer Avenue than the shade of the trees that cast their shadows on the bridge and creek. This part of the creek was extremely shallow except for a few fishing holes on the south side, but in those holes would be frogs, fish, turtles and eels. Of course there was always the chance of a snake but we usually made enough noise the snakes would find quieter spots along the creek to sun themselves. It was great for wading and pretending you were Tom Sawyer or a Marine in the jungles of some South Pacific island. My generation’s heroes were the World War 2 and Korean War veterans. The French were still in a yet unknown country of Vietnam on the other side of the world and war was still a game and the good guy always won and no one was really hurt. My generation would learn in only a few short years in Vietnam that war was real and lasted a lifetime not just in the battles of a jungle.

When you look back at events in your life that don't seem that important at the time, you later realize it may have set a pattern for the rest of your life. I don't really remember the year but I think it was the late 50s. Back then the New Hanover County Airport was still had free air shows and to be honest were a lot better than they are today. Of course the anti military attitude of the late 60s and 70s probably have a lot to do with the condition of the air shows today along with the drastic budget cuts of the 90s.

Anyway back in those days the USAF Thunderbirds flew the F-100 Super Saber and the Navy Blue Angels flew the F9F-8 Cougars both were good but the Navy team just had that little something extra. Always was partial to the Cougar and the Navy Blue and Gold. At this air show I don't remember which team was there that year but that isn't the point of the story nor the aircraft on display. I guess the largest and most impressive was the radar early warning plane, a Navy EC-121P Super Connie. The Super Connie is probably the sleekest plane ever built.

It was about time for the Army Golden Knights to take off and do their thing . They were in a C-124 transport (made popular in the movie Air America) as the plane left the ground the pilot put it into a steep climb as was normal for this display, but this time it was a little to steep and the aircraft stalled and set back down backwards then burst into flames. As I, along with everyone else watched in unbelief at the smoke and flames I was fascinated by the crash crew doing their best to save the people on board and put the fire out.

After one tour in Naval Aviation and 23 years as a firefighter I wonder how much that day had to do with the rest of my life.

Trip in the Country

One of my favorite things to do on the weekend was to get in the family car with my parents and go to the country. Many times the trip to the country would lead us to the Scott's Store / Outlaw's Bridge part of eastern North Carolina to see my father's family. Just across the woods from Mount Olive and Seven Springs where my mother's family was from. My father's parents died within a month of each other when he was about 7 years old. So his younger brother Harvey, older sister Callie and him were raised by his spinster Aunt Mattie and her twin sister Addie. Aunt Addie died in the 1940s before I was born so I never got to know here.

The picture shows Aunt Callie in the black dress and Aunt Mattie with the white apron on sitting in the sitting room of Aunt Mattie's home, which is still standing today (07/May/2009). About all I remember about Aunt Mattie was our last visit before she passed away. She was bedridden and near death because of several strokes. That seems to be the way the majority of us Outlaw's leave this world.

As usual I spent a lot of time rumageing around the barn and out buildings to see what a city boy could get into. I had been in the barn a number of times in the past but I was to find something new this time. There were the usual tools, cans of oil, chickens and other things, but I notice there had been a half wall built at one end of the barn. As I got closer I could hear something on the other side of the wall. So I looked for something to stand on and as luck would have it there was an old bench close by. I pulled the bench over and stood on it. It was just high enough for me to grab the top of the wall and pull up and look over the edge. Just as I peered over the wall I heard the most awful squeel and grunt that I had ever heard. Less than a two feet away and no more than a foot below me was the largest hog I have ever seen. That thing was the size of a cow and as ugly and mean looking as any hog I have ever seen. My heart stopped but my feet didn't. When I got to the house one of the adults asked me what was wrong. Not thinking, instead of saying I was scared by a snake or a bear I told them the truth. Everyone got a good laugh but me. I neverwent back in that barn and it is still there and still have no urge to go there.