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Author Topic: Beginnings and Passings  (Read 7474 times)

Offline Dan McEntee

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Beginnings and Passings
« on: October 30, 2016, 06:29:34 PM »
        I'm only three years late in doing this! Just surfing through the forums and realized Sparky volunteered me to moderate this section, and I was supposed to re-post this essay here. It was very therapeutic for me to write, and thank you very much to all for the nice comments regarding my writing. I'm glad you all enjoyed it. I'm still having a tough day or two here and there dealing with my brother's passing, and my Mom's, even though as people get older, you really expect them to go some day. But you really can't prepare for it.
     Thanks again,
  Dan McEntee
 


   (Originally written September 11, 2013 in "As Time Goes By" forum)


           Most or all of the threads in this section are about the old days or about how some of you got your start in the hobby. I thought I would share a little of my history with you guys.
     My Mom, Clara M. McEntee, passed away this past Friday, September 6, 2013 at the age of 89. She had been in declining health for sometime, but she hung in there and was lovingly cared for almost full time by my older brother Tim, and I tried to help out as much as possible, as one little benefit of working second shift allowed me to be there a lot when the rest of my brothers and sisters couldn't. I had been trying to prepare myself for this time for quite a while. My younger brother Jim passed away 21 months ago suddenly, right about the time Mom started to really decline. Jim figures in the story also, quite a bit. When I got the call from my sister Patty about Jim, I originally thought she was calling me about Mom. So I have been trying to get my mind ready for the news about my Mom ever since then, knowing it would be inevitable. However, it just didn't seem to work, and her loss following so close on the loss of my younger brother, has hit me harder than I thought it would. So, I think it would be kind of therapeutic for me to tell this story of what they both meant to me in my start in the hobby.
     I was a middle child of 10 kids all together. I had an older sister, Carol Ann, who died as an infant from a heart defect. My Dad passed away suddenly in April of 1965 and my Mom was left with the task of raising nine kids all by herself. My oldest brother Tom was maybe 20 years old at the time and in the Navy. Tom jumped in and filled Dad's roll as much as he could with us, and I am forever grateful to him for that. My baby sister Joan was a baby in diapers, around 2 years old. Nine of us all together, and Jim was 18 months younger than I. We knew things were going to be tough and that everyone was going to have to help out around the house and pitch in. Funny how that, even as a 10 year old child, sudden events like that tend to make you grow up a little faster.
    We weren't destitute or anything, as my Dad had some insurance that paid off the house, and we were raised on my Dad's Social Security and Veteran's benefits, but there wasn't much extra money laying around for frivolous things. Mom was very good at stretching a buck, and we were all pretty good at doing without and making do with what we had. Mom always seemed to make sure we had nice birthdays and a nice Christmas as possible, and I have lots of good memories of those times. We had our usual sibling spats and such, but being in that situation kind of made us realize we all needed to pull together.
     We lived near the airport, Lambert Field, in north St. Louis County, Missouri and our house was right underneath the approach to runway 24 at Lambert. My Mom was pregnant with me when we moved there, and I think it was the sounds of Connies and DC-7s taking off and landing over the house while I was in the womb that may have been an early influence on me! That and an Uncle Bob who was a pilot of some good reputation and was service manager at the old Brayton Flying Service at Lambert Field. You can read about my Uncle Bob in the May, 1949 issue of Air Trails Magazine (if you have it) in an article about Brayton. Uncle Bob went on to fly for the Kennedy Family during the 1960 election campaign, and for several years after. This was the foundation of my interest in airplanes in general.
     I have memories of a time, even before my Dad passed away, when I watched my dad and older brothers try to start a plastic ready to fly model in the back yard. I was just riveted while watching them fiddle with it, and the hope of seeing it fly. The one I remember most was a blue Wen-Mac Dauntless Dive Bomber. I don't remember them ever even getting a burp out of the engine though, and never got to see it fly. There was also a Cox Curtis Pusher that my Mom says was my Dad's. I still have the engines for both here somewhere, and managed to collect an example of both. I was just 4 or 5 at the time and considered too small for such "toys." But I dreamed of the day that I might get my own, someday.
    I was ten years old when my Dad passed away in April of 1965, and like I mentioned before, money was tight, and you just didn't even want to dare ask for anything for a birthday or Christmas that might be expensive like a gas model airplane. As a few years rolled by, my Mom would see me looking at them in the JC Penny and Sears Christmas catalogs, and I finally had the nerve to ask if I could have one for Christmas. Nothing else, just a gas model airplane was all I wanted. She told me "NO! I got those for your brothers and your father and I never even heard one run." That was her way of telling me that if she got me one, I probably would never get it to run, and therefor would be a waste of money. I just didn't have the heart to argue with her about it. That Christmas, I was still holding out hope that she would relent, but the holiday came and went, and no control line model.
   I had been building and flying small rubber powered models and gliders at that time when I had the money to buy them, so I was still doing something in the hobby. We got no allowance, so when we got some birthday money from an Uncle, or my Grandma, I had to invest it wisely to make it last, and there was just not enough for a control line model. When I didn't have any money for a kit or raw balsa, I would look for nickles, dimes or quarters in the street, soda bottles to turn in, or anything that I could to be able to buy a Jim Walker "74" glider or a North Pacific "Sleek Streek" or ""Skeeter." I was and an still am very good at getting max performance out of "dime store" type airplanes! But I wanted to stretch my wings so to speak and fly a real gas airplane.
   Like I said, the Christmas that I was 12 years old or so came and went, and no gas model. I just figured that there wasn't enough money in the Christmas budget or Mom really believed that i would never get the engine to run. With all the experience I had with other airplanes,  I thought that would show her that I had what it took to do the job. I thought to myself the only option was to earn enough money to buy one on my own.
   I came home from school one day in the following spring and went upstairs to change my clothes, and there it was on my bed! A big yellow box so large I figured in must have been some sort of giant model! It was a Cox Stuka Dive Bomber and man did it look neato! She had ordered it for the previous Christmas, but was back ordered and didn't come in time. I yelled at my brother Jimmy to come up and see it. Jimmy was my closest brother, best friend, and we did EVERYTHING together growing up. We had our arguments and fights and everything but generally we liked all the same things and worked well together. I realized later in life that Jimmy was smarter and more patient than I was, and was a kind of stabilizing force on me, even though he was younger. This is where he fits into the picture.
    We took the model out onto the back porch with the starting kit and instructions. We fueled it up, hooked up the battery, primed it and gave the spring starter whirl and it ran out the prime. I'm not kidding, but I let out a yell of excitement that I think scared my Mom to death! She must have thought I cut off a finger or something! She came out to check on us, didn't see any blood, and went back inside. I kind of still get that feeling to this day, when I prime an engine, hook up the battery and feel for that bump! We gave it a few more primes, and soon had it running. I marveled at how I could needle it up and down. I don't think I could have been more happier today if you gave me a top of the line Yatsenko Shark with the best PA engine in it!
    Well, we finally got a gas model to run and my Mom heard it! So that was the first hurdle to get over. The next was flying it! Our house backed up to an electric company right of way for a big high tension power line, and they rarely cut the grass. We thought it was perfect to fly on and right behind our yard! The fact that there was 50,000 volts in the lines was of no concern to us at the time, and I guess because we only had enough room to fly on dacron lines, we never had a problem! We took the Stuka out there with a large sheet of plywood as a work surface, hooked up the lines, set neutral, and got it ready to fly. I was an expert at starting and running the engine by this time, and I figured I had better fly it before the pint can of fuel was empty! No telling how long before I could afford more! I got the engine started on the first flip, got the engine peaked, and went out to the handle. Jimmy gave it a good hand launch and I gave it a bit of up, and up it went, right over my head in a wing over so nice that I probably couldn't duplicate today.It came down on the other side of the circle, and I guess I froze, because it went straight in! So straight that the grass had no cushioning effect, and it broke the nose of the airplane. My heart was crushed, along with the airplane! We dug around in the grass and found all the parts, and went to the basement to try and fix it. I got it cobbled back together good enough to look normal, and I could even run the engine if I gripped the nose tight enough to hold the engine, but I knew I couldn't fly it. I was afraid to tell my Mom, and I don't know if she ever knew. I just kept trying to figure out what I had to do and my next steps to get a gas airplane in the air.
   When I could afford the 50 cents that a Model Airplane News cost, or a Flying Models I would buy them at the drug store, or I would just sneak a peak at the issues that my brothers Ted and Terry would buy sometimes. I still have those also. I would study the American Hobby Center add in the front of the magazine, just like you guys may have done, and drooled over the models and engines. It was while doing this, and discussions with Jimmy, that I figured out that what I needed was a trainer. After much studying and looking, I settled on the then new Sterling 1/2A Beginners Mustang. I had the Baby Bee engine from my Dad's Cox Curtis Pusher, and I would use that engine. All I needed to do was get the $2.95 that the kit cost! I still have the magazine with the order form at the bottom of the page filled out with the items needed to get the kit, but never had all the money to send away for it. Somehow though, I saw one on a local hobby shop shelf and scraped together the money to buy it.
    I got the airplane built, but I didn't have the money for even clear dope for it. I had to decorate it some way, and I had seen the very first broadcasts of the Reno Air Races, so that was a natural fit. I chose the checkered "Miss Bardahl" Mustang of E.D. Weiner and proceeded to draw on black checkers on the airplane with a black Magic Marker that I sneaked out of my Mom's stuff. Proud as punch of my new creation, Jimmy and I headed out to the field behind the house for the first flights one summer day.
   This time, when I got the engine started, I didn't peak it out. I just leaned it out enough to where I thought it made enough power to fly. Jimmy gave it another good hand launch. It moved out, settled a little, and I gave it some up and helped it with some whipping action. It managed to stay airborne right above the top of the tall grass, and I flew the tank out. I'm sitting here at the computer giggling, remembering how over joyed I was at the achievement. We recovered the model, refueled it, and leaned it out some more. Jimmy gave another good launch, (he was good at that) and this time I was really flying! I had line tension and everything! I couldn't believe how well it flew, went up  and down whenever I wanted it to! Several more flights, and by that time I didn't care that the fuel was making a mess out of my 20 point Majic Marker checker job! I gave Jimmy some basic ground school on flying it, (because I was an expert by this time!) and let him have a crack at it with the engine needled back a bit, and he soloed right off. We must have flown several dozen flights by that time, and the fuel level in the can was at the nearing the bottom. Before we ran out or crashed the airplane, I went in and got my Mom and dragged her out to the fence to watch just one flight. I thrilled her with what I thought was some perfect climbs and dives and a landing in the grass right in front of her. All she said was " Well I finally I got to see one of those things fly! Good going."  Then she went back into the house to what ever it was that I interrupted he on, but that was high praise for me and good enough.
   Jimmy and I continued on with control line models after that. We learned to pool our money to buy fuel. Jimmy was better at saving money than I was and he was often the primary contributor! He got a Cox Super Cub not long after that and we flew the snot out of it also. As we got older and figured out ways to earn money, we moved up to large models and engines. We started off with a SIG P-47 model that my cousin started and didn't finish so he gave it to us and had a McCoy .35 Red Head in it. We got that to fly and we were in the big time! It didn't last long, but by that time I was hooked on the big stuff. All through these learning adventures, Mom was very tolerant and helpful with us. She wouldn't yell at us too much to "get that smelly paint out side" when we started to dope a model in the basement. She would dig out some tissue paper for covering when we needed it, and I'm sure she knew we would sneak pins out of her sewing kit when we needed some, because there always seemed to be plenty there when we needed them! She said in later years that she knew we were learning something by doing it, that would help us later on in life. Learning to use our head and our hands at the same time. She didn't like the dope smell, but never complained about the engine noise. She once said she put up with all the noise and mess because she knew where we where and what we were doing, and that she really didn't worry about us hurting ourselves.
   We eventually got some of the other kids in the neighborhood interested and they would fly with us behind the house. We would pool our fuel so we could all fly as much as possible on a Sunday. We would have three or more guys up in the circle at once sometimes, and once we manged to get nine, yes, nine 1/2A models in the air at once! Must have gotten all of 5 or 6 laps in like that before someone fell and let go of their handle! The model went straight up, dragging the lines and handle behind it. It arched over a tree near the house like a ballistic missile. My Mom was sitting in a lawn chair next to the BBQ cooking some pork steaks. That was a treat we got quite a bit during the summer! My Mom could take literally ALL DAY to cook pork steaks, and I would give my right arm for one right now! The model came straight down and smashed into the patio concrete right next to her! I thought that there would be hell to pay, but she never even flinched, and just yelled back to us, "Hey! Watch it you guys!"
    We were nearing high school age at that time, and earned pretty good money (at that time) during the summers. Motorcycles and dirt bikes caught our eye then, and models kind of slid into the back ground. I was taking welding classes at the local Tech School, and Jimmy took Small Engine Repair. Mom was very tolerant and supportive of those endeavors and put up with much noise and smells from those also. I would get out a model every now and then and Jimmy would help me fly, but he never really got back into it after that. He developed a kind of asthma condition and maybe that had something to do with it, but mainly he took to the Small Engine Repair and excelled at it. He won some skills competitions in Tech School and worked at a local small engine shop right out of high school. He figured out some major issues with the transmissions on some Wheel Horse brand lawn tractors that were on the market at that time, and that caught the eye of a local parts jobber, and he hooked Jimmy up with a prime job as a Service Representative with Wheel Horse Lawn Products, but he had to move to Atlanta to take the job. He was only 19 years old at the time, and was going to be working with guys twice his age and experience, but he really excelled at the job and loved it. He eventually married a girl from that area, and evolved into the machinist trade and setting up his own business doing that. He excelled at that also, and even though he never spent a penny on advertising, he managed to make a decent living with his one man operation, doing stuff that no one else wanted to do or could figure out. He kept his operation a one man deal, and probably could have built up a larger business with more employees, but to him that was more expensive and more headache, and he liked it the way he had it. It's probably why he managed to stay in business when other shops were closing as the economy took a dive. Like I said, Jimmy was pretty smart, a good, self taught engineer, and achieved many great things. It wasn't until after he passed away that I learned of some of them, because he had signed confidentiality agreements with some of his customers.  Some of the work was making prototype medical devices for the Medical Department of Georgia Tech University. To make a long story short, a good friend of his who was also his land lord for his shop, said at his memorial service in Atlanta, that there were children who could walk today, and people who were alive due to big inroads in open heart surgery because of the work that Jimmy did for them. He had the right kind of engineering mind, and cared enough about people to put in the effort. He made a living at it, and the finished products were mass produced by other companies, but Jimmy wasn't really interested in that. He could lay his head down on his pillow at night after an 18 hour day knowing that he really helped people and maybe saved lives, and that was good enough for him. There were people from the University at his memorial service who told us then, and again later, that they had not found anyone that could do what Jimmy could do, and cared enough about the final product to put in the time, even though it didn't make him rich. As I have been making trips to Atlanta to help my sister-in-law clear out his business and basement shop, I have found some other relics of the good times gone by, and will be bringing them home in the near future.
     Mom's attitude never changed as the years went by. She was always interested in what I was doing model wise. Without her help, patience and devotion to us that helped stoke the fire, I probably would have lost interest in the hobby as other things came along to take it's place. But the hook was sunk too deep, and I never ever did get rid of any of my model airplane stuff. One regret I have is never bringing her along to a local flying session to see what I had progressed up to. I had larger C/L stunt models and had gotten into R/C sailplanes before I got married and was still living at home, but she never got to see me fly any of them. As long as I was happy with my outcome, she was happy for me also. We have our Broken Arrow Stunt and Scale contest coming up in a few weeks, and I'm thinking that she'll be looking down and smiling on me with my Dad and Jimmy and can see me then. They will all be in my mind and my heart when I prime the engine, hook up the battery and feel for that bump.
     That's my little story of how I go my start, and I hoped you enjoyed it. No glamorous stories of trips to the NATS or anything like that, just good old fashioned, home brewed, back yard modeling. I would have liked to have been able to have gone to a Navy NATS, but I had just as much fun just the same along the way. Thanks to all the support from Mom and the help and brotherhood from Jimmy.
     Type at you later,
   Dan McEntee
   
« Last Edit: September 11, 2013, 11:08:58 AM by Dan McEntee »    Report to moderator   70.253.167.140
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Offline john e. holliday

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Re: Beginnings and Passings
« Reply #1 on: October 31, 2016, 08:17:06 PM »
That is one great story.  My Mom, Dad and brothers were very supportive of me and my modelling.   In fact my brother Howard drove me to a contest and wound up timing plus counting laps for the rat race event.  My brother Bob flew with me for a while,  but his health went bad for him as he had a tumor next to his spine.  I stayed with my Brother Bill the short time I worked in KC to help pay for the farm until Dad passed away.  Built my Combat Cats in the upstairs room which was my bed room while I stayed with them.    Dad would hold my planes when I flew and he loved watching the planes flying.   When people would ask him about the money I spent on planes he would tell them that I also paid for my school supplies and clothes.   He also told them he knew where I would be after getting home work done.  My Mom is the reason I started pitting my racing planes and getting someone else to fly.   She said I knew my engines no matter the event and could get them to start.

Anyway, I really enjoyed reading your story.  I don't think I ever thanked my parents and brothers enough.   Thanks again for your story.
John E. "DOC" Holliday
10421 West 56th Terrace
Shawnee, KANSAS  66203
AMA 23530  Have fun as I have and I am still breaking a record.


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