Hi Curt:
Yup, Bill was indeed a mail carrier, and it is true that his knees were in bad shape because of it. He was forced into early retirement, and that depressed him to the point of illness. Very sad to watch. He wanted so badly to complete his 30 years with the post office.
I would meet Bill at his home around 2:30 PM almost every flyable day. He went to work very early and hence got off early. We'd have the perfunctory cup of coffee (Bill loved coffee0, and then head for our practice field in Tenafly, New Jersey. It seemed like we did that a thousand times... The following is an excerpt from my Caprice book (check out the Library section on this forum for the full book text) that tells the story of how I came to fly and build with Bill. - Bob Hunt
In the late summer of 1965, I remember practice flying at my club’s field in Dumont, New Jersey. It was actually a baseball field that we had gained permission to use. There were no competition fliers in that club, and I was the only member who could actually fly the entire pattern. We had a lot of fun, however, and I looked forward to our weekend flying sessions.
I had just finished a flight and had landed. One of my fellow club members retrieved the model and we walked back to our roped-off pit area. I was busy wiping the fuel residue off of the model when I heard a voice say, “Looks like there’s someone here who wants to fly stunt.” I turned to see who had made the comment and nearly dropped the model and my jaw when I saw that it was Bill Simons.
Bill was the top northern New Jersey stunt pilot, and he was also among the top fliers in the entire eastern area. I had watched him fly locally many times but didn’t dare bother him while he was “working.” He did once let me launch his model at a field where he was putting on a demonstration. I think everyone else was afraid to even touch his model, so I actually volunteered on that occasion. Bill’s models were absolutely stunning. He was generally acknowledged as one of the very best builders and finishers in the East, and just the thought of putting a ding or dent in one of his models was enough to keep most far from the risk of launching them.
Apparently, Bill had been out flying at one of his “secret” practice fields and stopped by just to see what was going on at our club. He had watched my entire flight and came over to make a few encouraging comments and to offer any help that he could.
I was at once both stunned and elated. I actually flew a pattern that was recognizable enough for Bill to watch and then make a favorable comment about. I gathered up all my intestinal fortitude, thanked him, and then took a chance by asking him if I could take a few minutes of his time regarding a few technical questions. He said to fire away, and I guess I must have overwhelmed him with a barrage of stuff. In retrospect, that outpouring of questions from me must have convinced him that I was more than just a bit serious about giving this stunt thing a try.
Bill wrote down his phone number on a matchbook cover and gave it to me. He said that if I had any additional questions, I should give him a call sometime. I kept that matchbook cover for several years, even long after I had committed his number to memory. I even wrote his number in several other places at my home, just in case!
I waited all of about sixteen hours to call Bill (didn’t want him to think I was too anxious!) and began asking more questions. We lived about ten miles apart at that time, and he suggested that I come to his house for a visit one evening that week. I remember not getting much sleep the night before that visit.
When I got to his house, Bill took me to his upstairs shop (a converted bedroom). What happened next is probably as much to blame as anything else for my lifelong love affair with the stunt event and stunt models.
Sitting on one table in the shop were the pieces for Bill’s next new stunt model. The wing, fuselage crutch, rudder, fin, and stabilizer and elevator assemblies were sitting there squarely arranged in absolute pristine beauty. I mean, man, those components looked perfect! No gouges, no glue stains, no smudges -- just pure clean balsa parts that were perfectly sanded and shaped. Artwork!
I guess I went into a state of shock when I saw those pieces. I suddenly felt that I’d been thrown into the deep end of the stunt craftsmanship pool, and I was about to drown. I had no idea that building could be done at this level. I think my reaction pleased Bill.
I wanted to build like this immediately, but the thought of how much valley was between the peak where I was in my building and flying, and the peak where Bill was, seemed daunting. Bill sensed all of this, I think, and offered to mentor me as I built a new model. He suggested that I build a “Simonized” Nobler, and gave me all the secrets of what to use from the kit and what to change and make anew. I left his house that day with renewed focus and a sense of purpose. I was beginning my journeyman period, and Bill Simons was going to be my teacher. How great was that!
Bill and I went on to become extremely close friends – brothers really. He was even the Best Man at my wedding. I can never repay Bill for the things that I learned from him, and there are a lot of stories that I could relate. Without doubt, Bill Simons was one of the most influential among many wonderful people I’ve met and embraced during my life in modeling.
Topic: Bill Simons (Read 1307 times)