One evening I was browsing through TV channels, looking for something interesting rather than watching prime time network offerings. I luckily landed on the Smithsonian Channel, whose historic presentation that night was “Planes that Changed the World.” The title intrigued me so I settled into watching the show.
Ironically, the very first plane featured in the documentary program was the DC-3, first manufactured in 1936. It was the same type aircraft I had selected for Reds air travel in the late 1960s to carry us from point A to point B in the American Hockey League. Mel Chapman was the owner and pilot of our DC-3 rental plane. He was like a Damon Runyon character – friendly, carefree, sometimes boastful and often in a financial squeeze. He also enjoyed sipping and drinking more than his share of spirits.
Chappy’s DC-3 gem was manufactured sometime between 1936 and 1956 – the production years of the plane that truly changed the world. It was inexpensive to manufacture, comfortable for commercial passengers, and versatile for military use. Seating ranged from 21 to 32, its cruise speed 207 mph, and it had a range of 1,500 miles. And yes, the DC-3 had the greatest safety record among all airlines. Even today, aircraft historians credit its lasting effect on the airline industry and conversion for military use in World War II. Our friendly pilot claimed he flew about 50 missions for the military.
Our pilot turned out to be a true character – both a skilled pilot and fun-loving story teller and risk taker. He boasted about jail time he served in Cuba after Fidel Castro took over the country from the Batista regime during the Cuban Revolution in the late 1950’s. Chappy never would tell us what cargo Castro discovered hidden in his DC-3 that cost him time in the clink. He proudly told of a book written about Cuba that mentioned him as “a jovial short, balding, middle-aged drunken pilot with a rosy red nose to prove it.”
Chappy liked to tell of his Christmas season assignment that transported in his DC-3 about 15-20 real live reindeer from wherever to the town of North Pole, NY, an upper-state tourist park started in 1949. The park was billed as the oldest theme park in the United States and features Santa at the North Pole with live reindeer and a traditional Christmas theme. In order to transport the reindeer Chappy had to remove all passenger seating, just as the military did to transport American paratroopers or equipment and supplies behind enemy lines during WWII. “Cleaning up reindeer droppings is not much fun,” he once quipped.
Our relationship with Chappy started out great. He even painted our “raging rooster” logo on the tail along with that of the Toledo Mud Hens baseball team. Although the DC-3 sometimes encountered bumpiness in unsettled weather we always made our destinations safe and sound. Despite the noisy drown of its two powerful propeller motors, our players quickly accepted Chappy and his DC-3 as a blessed break from having to take longer bus trips, which were tiring and boring. As an example, a bus trip to Hershey then took at least 7 hours, whereas our DC-3 delivered us in less than three.
Trips flown by our heralded pilot (later fired by yours truly) and his replacement at the controls sometimes could be very eventful. Coming to mind there were some very unusual episodes.
In 1968, the team privately boarded on the tarmac of TF Green for a game against the Baltimore Clippers. Already seated was a middle-aged woman wearing a beautiful Winter coat. Much older than anyone on the team, coach Creighton and the players politely nodded as they passed her to take their seats.
About a half hour after takeoff, she asked one of the players if anyone knew where we were going and if someone could sing her a country western song. That immediately prompted an uneasy Dave to head to the cockpit to ask Chappy who the lady passenger was. Dave was surprised when Chappy said he thought she was with the team.
Word quickly spread through the cabin as Chappy notified airport officials. Meanwhile, the lady was adamant for a serenade. No one stepped forward. That’s when the guys turned to Vin Cimini, the team’s young Publicity Director, who confessed at having neither singing talent nor a knowledge of anything country western.
Undaunted and hoping to put the lady at ease and the team quieted down, Vin, a big Beatles and Dylan fan at the time, sang the only tune he identified as country western – Gene Autrey’s “Home, Home on the Range.” The team erupted in laughter as the lady gently swayed to Vin’s strained vocals, “Where the deer and the antelope play”.
When the plane landed in Baltimore, the lady, whose name we never learned and had walked away unnoticed to the airport from the IMH in nearby Cranston, was greeted by Maryland officials as she and the team waved smiling goodbyes to each other.
By Buster Clegg