Fun with Model Aircraft

Christmas - Wen Mac Flying Platform - The engine that never ran!

My Uncle Tommy was a salesman: a sewing machine salesman in fact.  He traveled all over the country and you never knew when he would show up.  He was Dad’s younger brother and it was exciting when he was around because he brought (or mailed) presents!  I can remember around the holidays wondering what “Uncle Tommy” would be sending me.  Of course, it did not always happen.  For years, a package would show but often, they would not.  Sometimes, Uncle Tom would arrive in person and I would get to shine his oxblood red shoes (for which he compensated me with usually a fifty-cent piece.   That was what my Dad would pay me for mowing the lawn so you can readily see; having Uncle Tom around was a treat, with or without gifts.

Christmas, 1959 (or so) a package arrived from Oklahoma.  Inside, was a flying platform with a man standing on what could be described as a half helicopter, half pusher hovercraft.  A glow fuel engine powered it: a Wen Mac complete with pull starter.  Wow, this was something!  I couldn’t wait to get it outside and fire it up.  I pulled a mostly dead six-volt dry cell from a portable lantern, fueled the engine with the “starting kit” packaged with the machine and headed out to the front yard to “fly”.   It was a warm Christmas as I recall and I may have even had my PJ’s still on.  Fortunately, the dry cell was dead (a good thing because a 6 volt cell would have burned out the glow plug) so the first attempt was a failure.  Later, the next day or so, Dad took me and the machine to a local hobby shop where they “tested” the glow plug.  It was fine and Dad purchased the correct 1.5-volt cell and we headed back home… For the next few days and evenings, Dad spent hours in his workshop, trying to get that engine to run with almost no luck.  I say almost, because I did here it “Pop” and run the prime out a number of times but never a sustained run.  Eventually, we gave up and I went back to my Lionel trains.  The Flying Platform never got off the ground.


Uncle Tommy and a Cox P-40

It was during 5th or 6th grade that my Uncle Tom paid our family another visit. During the time he spent with us he managed to find a hobby shop and bought me a plastic gas model airplane.  I remember it well as it was a Curtis P-40 complete with “Shark mouth” that symbolized the plane flown by Chennault's “Flying Tigers” during WWII.  Actually, that was one of my favorite war stories and Hollywood films: “God is my Co-Pilot”, a biographical story of Col. Robert L. Scott from Macon Georgia.  I can vividly recall holding that plane and admiring the design as I watched the movie on TV.

One day I happened to hear the sound of a model engine coming from the Naubuc schoolyard.  I flew out of the house, across the street and through the woods until I reached the playground.  There I met two older boys.  Bruce Drinkwater lived in Wells Village just up the road and Jimmy Sumner who lived just across from the “Village” on House Street.  They were flying some sort of small model and I happened to mention that I had a gas model that I would like to fly.  Their response introduced me to the model airplane hobby that has remained with me for over 40 years.  Off I went home to fetch my plane.  I can’t fully recall all the details but it seemed my father or mother was with me.  I do recall the sound of that Cox .049 starting (far easier and louder than the Wen Mac that never really did run).  In no time, Jimmy Sumner had the P-40 in the air.  It was flying!  After it ran out of fuel, Jim made an acceptable landing, bending the landing gear slightly.  After straightening the gear, it was fueled and off we went again.  However, this time, Jimmy flew the plane high and motioned me to enter the circle.  Once inside, he had me place my hand over his and let me control the plane.  I never did figure out if I was actually flying.  I can remember how different the plane sounded without the pulsing Doppler effect of being inside the circle.  The plane flew once or twice more until the landing gear finally sheared off.  Jimmy offered to take the broken gear strut home and repair it with a new piece of music wire.  What a day.  At times, I was so excited I was actually hoping and wishing the engine would fail to start!

Later, I visited Jimmy at his home to pick up the repaired landing gear; I was awed by the seemingly endless supply of model airplanes strewn about his basement.  They were everywhere and so wasn’t just about everything else including a few kitchen sinks.  How anyone ever found anything in that mess remains a mystery to me today.  Jimmy’s father worked at Pratt (like just about everyone else) but also did all the mechanical work on his cars and those of many of his neighbors. The cellar was filled with junk car parts including a few engines.  I kept thinking, “How would they ever get all of this crap out of there if they ever had to move?”  Anyway, somewhere in our conversation I heard Jimmy suggest that perhaps learning how to fly the P-40 might not be the best way to start.  For the large sum of fifty cents (one lawn!) he would take the motor out of my plastic airplane and install in on one of his “trainers” Presumably, that trainer would be easier for me to gain the required proficiency in order to “pilot” an airplane around a “circle”.  Jim also assured me the P-40 would remain “flyable” simply by reinstalling the engine.  Words like “stunny” and “stable” were tossed around as we discussed the various flight characteristics of 1/2A control line airplanes.  Somewhere I must have picked up on the idea that the P-40 was “stunny” and I needed to learn on something that was more “stable”.  Naturally, Jim’s trainer he was trying to unload on me was “just the ticket”.  Funny thing; I never remembered flying that trainer for some reason.  Either it never flew or flew well or I destroyed it.  Something must have happened because later, the engine was installed back in the P-40 long before I learned how to fly (successfully!).  In fact, the P-40 met its demise one day at Glastonbury High School with Jimmy at the controls.  I never successfully “soloed” that P-40.


Naubuc School yard and Jim Sumner's YAK-9

Spring Street in Glastonbury, Connecticut where I grew up runs parallel one block south of Griswold Street.  Naubuc School, my elementary alma mater was on Griswold Street.  In order for me to get to school, all I need was to walk out my door, up the street about 100 feet to the Neumeth's house, through their back yard and onto a path into the woods behind their house.  Emerging from the “woods” one would find me on the edge of the Naubuc school playground. Actually, it was a grass field that doubled as a baseball field, kickball field, and practice area for local neighbors practicing their golf swings.  Around mid-March, it was also an ideal kite flying area until your string broke and you lost your store-bought kite with its newspaper tail, in the “woods” bordering the school.

As a child, I remember these woods as being pretty “wilderness like” consisting of many “paths” running of in all kinds of directions.  Naturally, I was an expert in walking these paths and depending upon which one you took, you could end up in almost anyone’s backyard who‘s house bordered on the north side of Spring Street. Today most, if not all of those woods have disappeared, their stately trees falling to the axe of development and the ever-increasing need for land at the school.  Over the years, the school expanded and their parking lots filled with additions to the structures.  Naturally, new lots encroached on the places us kids rolled marbles and played during recess, causing the school to extend their playgrounds into the “woods”.  Today, they even have a chain link fence separating the playground from the neighboring homes.

The kitchen at 64 Spring Street faced the front of the house.  With the windows open, one could hear just about anything going on within the neighborhood including any activities in the schoolyard.  One day, shortly after meeting some of the “big” kids who had model airplanes, I heard the sound of a model engine.  It must have been a Saturday because the next thing I remember is climbing on my bike and heading off through the woods across the street and into the schoolyard.  Arriving there I found a couple of “kids” with a god awful pink and maroon control line model airplane.  It had a wingspan of about 32 inches, a profile fuselage and a huge model engine up front accompanied by an even bigger propeller.  The size was, of course, being compared to my 1/2A P-40 which by most standards, is a “toy” airplane.  This pink job was a model, and did it make noise!  As I approached the field on my bike, I heard one of the “kids” shouting something about “watching out for the lines”.  These would be the steel braided control lines stretched across the field to the center of the “circle” from where the “pilot” would control the model airplane.  I soon discovered that bicycle tires and steel lines don’t mix very well, especially if you’re the kid on the bike and the lines belong to someone else!

Upon my arrival, I soon noticed the “mechanic” (that’s the guy flipping the prop) was complaining about the engine be “hard” to start.  Somehow, he removed a screw like item from the engine and hooked it up to two wires running from a 1.5-volt dry cell.  I heard him mutter something about this being the “shitty” plug and within a few minutes he was off on his own bicycle, promising to return shortly, heading to his house for a “better” plug.

Within 20 minutes, this “kid” returns (and I discover his name is Jimmy) and within a short time, has the engine “popping and farting” and eventually running.  After a few adjustments, Jimmy stands up and leave the running airplane to his “helper” and runs to the center of the circle where he picks up a red handle attached to the “lines” He appears to double check something and finally signals his helper by placing his left arm over his head and dropping it to his side, sort of way a British Army Officer would return a salute.  The helper “pushers the plane which travels along the ground for about 10 feet until it’s airborne. Wow.  For a little kid, this is awesome stuff.  The air is filled with the sounds of the engine and the smell of castor oil.  The plane completes a lap in about 12 seconds, flying level and around 6 to 10 feet from the ground.  After about 10 minutes, the engine appears to pick up speed, then begins to sputter and finally stops.  The plane glides to a landing, almost to its point of origin, help by Jimmy “whipping” the lines to extend the glide.

I have about a thousand questions.  So doesn’t the growing group of spectators.  Jim describes the plane as being a “Yak-9” and powered by a “Torp-29” which has seen better days.  Someone asks how he came up with the pink color scheme.  Jim replies “I had only so much paint so I mixed some leftover paint together and this is the result!”

On the next flight, Jimmy again, fly’s in a circle about 10 feet high.  Then he begins to make a series of “climbing turns” which he later told me were “wingovers”.  After a few of these, he brings the plane higher, them into a shallow dive.  At the bottom of the dive, the plane lurches up and over on it’s back and finally back upright again.  It’s a loop.  But, the engine is protesting, almost quitting at the top of the loop.  After landing, Jim tells everyone the engine is worn out and lacks sufficient power to pull the plane through the maneuvers.  To me, the plane and engine are wonderful in spite of its lack of performance or color.

After a few more successful flights, Jim and his partner pack up their gear and prepare to head home.  With the plane under his arm, he mounts his bicycle and heads up Griswold Street.  Somewhat dejected and forlorn, I navigate my own bike through the woods and home for supper.  Life is good but I wish I owned an airplane.


Learning to fly 1/2A's

So far I’ve yet to fly a plane by myself.  The P-40 is flying with the help of Jimmy Sumner and we fly it at every opportunity. The trainer that I bought off Jimmy is too hard to fly.  I decide to “build” my own aircraft and for some unknown reason, I pick up a Sopwith Pup biplane.  About the same time, my cousin, Richie Thurz and Jimmy tell me about this place they discovered where you can build your airplanes and someone donates the materials, like dope, glue, even balsa wood and kits.  Interesting especially since I am habitually short on funds and therefore the ability to purchase those same required “essentials”.  The catch is, we must take the bus into Hartford and go into the Hartford Police station on Morgan Street.  The group is called PAL, an acronym for Police Athletic League.  Actually, it’s a group set up by the cops to get the inner city kids from the Hartford streets interested in something other that street crime.’

Both Jimmy and Ritchie have made a few trips to the “Police Station” and work on some airplane projects.  By the time I get involved, the PAL project of helping kids build models is nearing its end and everyone is getting ready for a static judging contest.  The contest is held on a Sunday afternoon and all the kids enter their projects.  Cousin Richie enters his Top Flite Nobler (that we suspect was built by his Dad) and he wins!  But wait, the judging is awarded for each age group represented.  Someone finally notices that I’m the only 11 year-old entered. Looks like I’m a certain winner!  The judges proceed around the table and make their selections.  The winners can figure out who they are because a judge stops in from of your plane and records something on a slip of paper.  Nobody records anything from my spot.   Tears begin to collect in my eyes.  It’s not fair!  I’m the only 11 year old there!  But wait.  There is some activity by the judges.  Pretty soon, here comes someone walking down the tables looking at the cards we have in front of our planes that have our name, age, and kind of plane.  They stop in front of me.  I see Ritchie smiling at me from across the room.  Finally, the judging is over.  Mayor Kinsella begins to award the prizes as they call up each winner from every age group.  Ritchie wins with his Nobler.  I win with my Pup!  The good mayor hand me an airplane kit: a Sterling Models Super Ringmaster!  Wow, I can barely hold my excitement.  Later that evening, we see ourselves on TV as the local Channel 3 captures the event.  My first “win” even thought it was by default.  But, a win is a win.  I sleep that night with the kit next to me.

Eventually, we lose the P-40 at the High School. One day, the GHS model airplane club hosts a fly-in and Jimmy, Ritchie, Norm Fervanti all gather together to fly.  Mom brings me to the High School.  Soon, one kid asks Jimmy to fly his plane and Jimmy replies: "Wait, wait until I “Wrack up” this kid’s plane (meaning mine).  Wouldn’t you know it but on that very next flight, one of the lead out strings breaks at an inopportune moment and the P-40 is now in two pieces.  To this day, I never knew if it the crash was even remotely intentional.  I doubt it but that was it for 1/2A’s and plastic airplanes for me.  I never learned to fly or soloed on a ½ A.  Much later in my modeling career, I did manage to produce and fly a number of ½ A’s after learning my basic skills on the larger “A, B and C” models.


Dad and the Super Ringmaster

My father had his workshop in the cellar.  Actually it was a full-fledged TV/Radio shop complete with all kinds of electronic test equipment.  You see: our Dad was a TV hobbyist.  Rumor or legend has it he, his brother and a few others “built” the first TV in the town of Glastonbury.  The “set” was constructed from components from a variety of sources and assembled at our home in Wells Village.  Old home movies capture one of Dad’s closest buddy’s atop a homemade “tower” erected in our backyard on Harris Street.  Ed Laski climbed the tower wearing a headset while my father adjusted the TV in the house.  Presumably, the antenna fastened to the top of the tower was “swung” to increase the signal strength from Channel 5 out of New York and Dad would relay the picture quality to Eddie and direct the positioning of the antenna.

Prior to WWII, Dad joined the National Guard as part of the 43rd Division.  The purpose of his joining up was to earn extra money to augment his wages earned as a polisher at Billings and Spencer, one of Hartford’s tool manufacturers.  Soon after Joining, WWII broke out and the 43rd Division was nationalized and the unit shipped out to Camp Blanding, Mississippi.  My Dad’s CO was none other than Warren Kennedy who later ran a greenhouse that employed my grandfather on my mother’s side.  My contact with Kennedy would eventually take on a more personal perspective when AAA employed me where Kennedy was a member of the Board of Governors.

Meanwhile, Dad was training at Camp Blanding preparing for the European Theater of Operations.  It didn’t take long for Dad to cook up a scheme to join up with the then Army Air Corps.  His strategy was to become a pilot and fly a bomber.  His theory was that even if he washed out in flight school, he would become a bombardier or some other member of the flight crew.  While he never actually said so, I believe he had his fill of the Infantry and was looking for something drier, more comfortable albeit more risky and dangerous.  When Kennedy learned of Dad’s desire to go after an aviation appointment, he campaigned against the concept by suggesting that ratings (promotions) were sure to be forthcoming and since Dad was an “old timer” was sure to receive a promotion.  Dad would also need three letters of recommendations from local dignitaries, which would take time and effort to secure so for the time being, the pursuit of a flying career was placed on the “back” burner.  Later, I would learn that Dad decided after all to go for the Air Corp and solicited the required letters of recommendation.  The third and final arrived, far too late, just as he was shipping out of Fort Ord, bound for Pacific and New Zealand.  While in the Pacific Dad would see action in the Solomon Islands as part of the campaign under MacArthur to secure the Japanese airfield at Munda, New Georgia.  During this campaign, Dad was shot and lost his right hand.  After evacuation to California and later, to the McClusky Army Hospital in Texas, where he underwent physical rehabilitation, Dad would return home and as part of the GI Bill, enroll in an electronics correspondence course developed by DeForest, the inventor of the vacuum tube.  It was this training that led Dad into the field of electronics and radio and television.  Later, his reputation became widespread within our hometown of Glastonbury as being one of the best “television” men around.

As a youngster, I remember the many hours our father would spend working in his “shop” either on his own projects or someone’s broken TV.  Frequently, the phone would ring and I would hear my father ask the caller” any sound? Any picture?”  Usually, that kind of call would result in a service call where Dad would take his tube kit, and head off to the caller’s house.  This would generally account for the latest TV undergoing repair in the basement.

Dad’s workshop environment was strictly electronics.   There were all kinds of wires, tubes, test instruments and the usual assortment of “junked” TV and radios being stripped for parts. Soon after my first contest “win” it was decided that Dad would assist in the construction of the awarded prize.  It was agreed that Dad would construct the fuselage of the “Super Ringmaster” and I would produce the wing.  Dad based upon the relative complexity of the fuselage probably decided how that came about.  Later, that proved to be a good decision. A section of the “electronics” shop was cleaned away and modified to allow for airplane building along with the associated sawdust and shavings. Dad was getting into this in a big way. It was probably one our our very first “joint” father/son projects.

Our Father was a patient, fussy man.  Not only could you see it by the way his things turned out, but also Mom wouldn’t miss an opportunity to point this out as part of my “growing” up.  I suppose it was all part of that parental desire that offspring must turn out “better” than the parents.   He would continually strive for perfection in anything he did: from painting a fence, repairing a TV or tilling the garden.  That pursuit for excellence was not lost on me and I was continually reminded about my “close enough” attitude referring to the measurement of the quality of my work.  Not that I was sloppy mind you.  I just never could measure up to the standards, probably based upon my general impatience with most tasks and a desire to “cut corners” favoring expediency over everything else. (My son Robert can probably relate to this as well.)

It was a good thing; having Dad start with the fuselage.  Sterling kits were never known for quality die crunching and Dad took his time carefully separating the parts and cutting when necessary.  Dad was also very patient and it showed in his work.  In those days the cement of choice was Ambroid and that took hours to set up and overnight to fully cure.  It seems like weeks but eventually the fuselage took shape and before long, I was inserting the wing (that I built) and completing the airframe.  I decided upon orange and Curtis blue as a color scheme for this plane.  The fuse was orange and the wing blue.  The motor used was my one and only Fox Rocket 35.  Money was tight in those days and I could only afford the one engine.  It often took me weeks to save up enough for a ½ pint of dope or a tube of ambroid.  Progress was slow but eventually, the Super Ringmaster was finished.  I still had not “soloed” some Jimmy Sumner took the honors for the first flight.  My memory is vague but I believe we flew this 2 or 3 times.  Finally, Jimmy tried a loop and the engine sagged.  The lines slackened and the plane hit nose first.  The fuselage that Dad spent long house crafting was demolished.  Another plane bites the dust and I’m still unable to solo.  This needs to change for sure.  I bring the Ringmaster home in a bag.  Can’t remember if I disclosed the event to Mom & Dad; probably not as Mom would have lectured me and Dad, well I didn’t want to disappoint him especially after all the work he put into this project.

One day earlier, someone brought a flying wing to the field.  It was simply a wing with a motor mounted in the middle and an elevator attached to the trailing edge.  I must have picked up on this concept because I cut out a motor mount from a piece of plywood and glued it to the Ringmaster wing.  Later, I took everything to the schoolyard and hooked up my lines.  I enlisted some non-flying buddies to assist me and we soon had the motor running.  Remember, I had never soloed as yet.  The “Wing” was hand launched and off it flew.  Imagine my surprise when I completed a couple of laps!  Hey, I’m flying this all by my self!  This contraption didn’t look like much; rather a jumble of ill fitting parts but it was functional.  More important, I had flown it successfully!


Paul Senyk and Richards Hardware

I grew up in an urban/rural town that back in the 1950’s had few stores and shopping areas as we see today.  If you needed something other than the standard household items you were required to make a trip into the “city” and in this case, Hartford.  Obviously at our age and being unable to drive even if we were old enough, cars were limited usually to one per family except for these who were considered “wealthy”. So, to get to Hartford we took the bus.  Once into Hartford, we had a choice of two places in which to buy hobby items; E.J. Korvettes a forerunner to the modern chain departments stores or a neat little shop named Hobby Centre which was located a short walk from Main Street on Pearl Street.  Generally, we started at Korvettes as their prices were slightly discounted but the selection was limited. On the other hand, Hobby Center had everything and if you didn’t see it on the shelves or in the display cases, all you did was ask one of the two owners and they could usually produces just about anything you needed.  It was a treat and experience as a kid of 11 or 12 to be allowed to make that bus trip by yourself.  Those places with their supply of kits, motors, paint and glue were the source of dreams about what we would build next.  Of course money was tight so most of those dreams never got much beyond that stage.

In the center of Glastonbury was a group of small buildings and a gas station.  They were situated right in the center at what was traffic “rotary.  Across the street were a drug store with a soda fountain, a small supermarket and a department store called Kamins.  Now Kamins would have a small selection of plastic model, some glue and usually paint for plastic models. Behind the Texaco gas station was a hardware store called Richard’s.  Richards sold the usual hardware items, plumbing stuff and just about any kind of screw, bolt, washer or nut.  It was old and small with wooden floors and a distinct odor of paint mixed with fertilizers and oils.  It was a neat place to visit on a typical Saturday.

Down the street from my house lived my buddy Paul Senyk.  Paul (who actually went by the name of “Lee”) was 4 years older than I. He was Polish and spoke the language well. He was also an excellent modeler.  His work was meticulous and he had lots of patience and paid attention to the fine details.  Lee was also somewhat aloof and while he was a friend, that 4-year age difference would often interfere with our childhood relationship.  But, Paul was interested in models and he built terrific plastic kits of all the jet fighters of that period.  He and another friend, Paul Blake would write letters to the Army and Air Force asking for pictures and there were walls lined with large, glossy military photos of planes like the B-58 “Hustler”, the F-102 “Delta Dart” and of course, the F-104 “Starfighter”.  Paul Blake and Lee Senyk were also well versed in the technical capabilities of these aircraft and could quote top speeds, service ceiling and range.  Suffice it to say, we were into airplanes and as the younger kid on the block, I was thrilled to be hanging around with these guys.  Eventually, that all came to an end a few years down the road when they became “too old” for me to hang with but that‘s another story for a different chapter.

I can’t really recall who got started with gas models first but I believe it was me.  After winning the Hartford PAL contest and getting the Super Ringmaster as a prize I recall Lee also buying a Ringmaster so at one point, there were two Sterling Super Ringmasters under construction on Spring Street.  Of course, we needed glue and other construction materials so Lee Senyk and I would take the bus to Hartford to make our purchases. One day, I recall Lee coming over to my house and telling me that Richard’s in the center of town had some model supplies.  We took off on our bikes and rode to the center that Saturday and sure enough, in the rear alcove of the store was a small assortment of balsa wood, glue, a couple of kits and some glow fuel.  Richards had decided to add hobby items to their growing list of items sold in that old hardware store.  They said at Christmas time, there were planning on adding Lionel trains as well.  Well, it didn’t take long for Lee and me to introduce ourselves and offer our “expert” advice as to what kind of items they should sell.  Ray Wilk, the owner of Richards opened up an area in the rear of the store adjacent to a small outside display window.  Over the new few months, Lee and I would spend time at that store and Richards even allowed us to set up the display cases.  Soon, supplies and kits began to arrive and we no longer were compelled to take the bus to Hartford.  If Richard’s didn’t have something, they would order it and although that would take time, it was better than going to Hartford when we would spend 60 cents of hard earn money just for bus fare.  That money could be better spent on a ½ pint of Testor's Butyrate Dope!

One day Richards received a new kit.  It was a small profile control line model called a PDQ Flying Clown. It was easy to build and even more important, it was cheap; $2.95 as I recall.  I bought one and soon began construction.  It didn’t take long and it came out pretty nice.  The problem was I had no money for an engine as with need a .19 sized glow engine.  Richards had them but my funds were low.  Mr. Wilk asked me one day if I had any planes built that he could hand in his window/  “Sure, I said, my new PDQ clown.”  Lee offered to allow me to mount his new McCoy .19 “Red Head” on my plane for display purposes.  It wasn’t long before “My” creation was hanging on display for all to see at Richards Hardware.  It even had a small sign taped to it “built by Joe Bednarz”.

Richards Hardware kept this up for a year or two but finally realized it probably took up too much of his time answering questions from customer like me who rarely “purchased” anything of significant value.  One day the bad news hit; Richards was selling off all his model supplies.  Lee and I stocked up on what we could afford but it was a difficult loss.  One of the things we used to enjoy on a Saturday, was walking from Spring Street to Richards at the center of town.we would buy something, usually a kit or motor or whatever  and then walk across the street to Franklin Drug.  Franklin’s had a luncheonette or soda fountain in the back of the drugstore,  There was a counter and a couple of booths which is where Lee and I would examined our newly acquired items while eating French Fries and drinking Coca Cola from the soda fountain.  Franklins had great French fries!


My first RC kit and its return - Richards Hardware Sterling Mambo

Before Richards closed his hobby activities I did make a fairly substantial purchase.

My cousin Richie Thurz was into control line flying together with Jimmy Sumner, we spent hours flying, building and hanging out together.  Richie’s’ Dad however, was also into model airplanes but his interests evolved around a new aspect to the hobby; Radio Control.  Now just the sound of “remote control” and radios just sounded “expensive” and it was.  It wasn’t only expensive but in those days, the equipment was not all that reliable. Further, very few people knew anything about flying “remote control” so help was not easily obtained.

Back in those days, most of the radio control models flown were what we call “single channel” or “rudder only”. The planes were generally a free flight design when launch, you could command turns to either the left or right.  The planes usually were trimmed to fly by themselves as long as you had a very large area in which to operate.  The Glastonbury meadows next to the Connecticut River were an ideal place and over the years I’ve spent a great deal of time in those fields.

Richie’s Father had built a single channel radio control plane called a “Mambo”.  Like the Yak-9 and Ringmaster, it was designed by Matt Kania and kitted by Sterling Models.  Eventually, Jimmy Sumner was bitten by the radio control bug and he began building a Mambo.  On weekends, when flying our control line plane on Riches farm, Jimmy and Mr. Thurz would be discussing the Mambo. The kit was pricey, around $18.95 as I recall.  If that wasn’t bad enough, you need to spend another $15 on silk and dope as his was a big airplane.  The motor was usually a Fox .15 which was another r$20.  Then came the gut buster; the “Citizenship” brand Transmitter, receiver, escapement, and assorted wires switches and batteries.  All of that added up to $125 or more so as you can see, this was not a kid’s thing.  This was strictly an adult endeavor!

Jimmy’s Mambo was taking ages for him to complete which was probably the result of his “lack of funds”.  When I would visit his “workshop” in his cluttered cellar, I would see the unfinished Mambo hanging from his ceiling.  He was saving up his money to buy the receiver and escapement so he could at least complete the plane and get it ready to fly.  As I remember, the transmitter was one of the more expensive components so that would likely come last.

One day I came into some money; $20 as I recall.  Of course, those twenty bucks was burning a hole right through my pocket and I was dreaming about all that I could buy.  So, one Saturday, Lee and I made the trek to Richards and low and behold, he had a Mambo on the shelf.  Wow, I could afford it now and soon, Lee and I were chomping down Franklins French Fries while looking over my newly purchased kit.  I must have arrived home and told my parents about this purchase.  I’m pretty sure they must have started a line of questioning as to how I expected to get the dough not only to build this size kit, but how in heaven did I think I could manage to acquire all the other items within that century!

It didn’t take but a few day before Joey was walking back to Richards with the Mambo box under his arm.  I had no idea you could “return” something after you bought it by I’m sure my Mother convinced me.  Anyway, I walked out of Richards with my refund having made my biggest airplane purchase and return of my early hobby career.

Flying on the farm with Cousin Richie

After my first solo with the homemade flying wing it was time to build a real model again.  I decided upon a Sterling Yak-9 kit just like the one my buddy, Jimmy Sumner was flying that day a Naubuc school.  The Yak is a .35 profile rendition of a WWII

Russian fighter.  Being a profile model, the complexity of the construction is vastly simplified. If you will recall, my Dad devoted “hours” of painstaking labor to build that Super Ringmaster fuselage.  The profile fuselage on the Yak could be finished in one evening. The neat part of this model Yak was the fact it incorporate multiple control surfaces.  The “elevator” would control the angle of attack or direction of the plane and since we are flying in a counterclockwise circle, the rudder is fixed with a slight right side deflection. The other control surface on the Yak were flaps; sort of large elevator surfaces attached to the trailing edge of the wing.  Without getting too technical, these surfaces to hinged at the trailing edge of the wing and linkage is connected between the flaps and the elevator so that when the elevator is moving upwards, the flaps move in the opposite direction.  This adds additional lift to the wing and allows the aircraft to be more aerobatic.  In a full scale aircraft, the flaps operate differently and for much different reasons.

Enough lawns are mowed and money saved to facilitate the purchase of all the necessary building components; glue, dope, silk for the wings, hinges, and so on.  In fact, you could double the cost of the kit will all the building materials needed.  Then there was the engine and fuel tank!  Those are very expensive but fortunately, I have my trusty Fox Rocket .35 from the ill fated Super Ringmaster.  After a month or so, the Yak is finally finished and test flown at Naubuc School.  First flights were successful and I gain valuable experience flying that plane.  Eventually, I wanted to learn how to fly the maneuvers; the loop, wingover and of course, inverted (upside down!).  Now, most school yards are a combination of grass sports files with a little asphalt mixed in to make a basketball court.  By the way, these courts make great runways for model airplane provided they are situated in an area sufficiently large enough to form a “flying circle”.  The problem with all those surfaces is the fact they are hard. If one were to make a mistake on the controls, the plane is apt to strike the ground under full power and would become as some of would refer to as having become “re-kitted”!  The solution is to find an area with high, tall grass and soft earth. Wheat fields on farms are ideal.  Now my distant cousin, Ritchie lives on such a farm and he also fly’s model airplanes!  What a break.  It’s not long before I finagle an invitation and Mom drops me and my airplane off at the Thurz farm.  I’m soon practicing loops and inverted flight over the tall grass areas on the farm while Ritchie Grandfather tends the cows.  Yep, I make a mistake and pile the plane in.  Upon inspection, the only damage is a broke “needle valve” on the motor, a broken prop along with a pound of soft pasture to be cleaned off the motor. The plane is perfect and testimony to my building skills (or luck).  Repeated trips back to this farm gives me the experience and the confidence to try these maneuvers back at the school yard.


Experimenting with “free flight” with Mr. Sweet’s Piper J-3 Cub

Money was tight during the days of my childhood which significantly curtailed my ability to purchase many of the neat model things available in the hobby shops. Up to now, my involvement in airplanes was limited to control line models, probably one of the less expensive areas except for maybe rubber band “stick & tissue” models. Radio Control or R/C was in its infancy and the equipment very costly and marginal in performance. Aside from rubber band free- flight and gliders, most of our flying was done with U-control; restricted to 60’ circles in a school yard. However, airplanes were designed to fly free, either in straight lines for climbing circles. In order to do that, you either invested in radio control where in those days you had limited control over a single channel rudder and if lucking, could keep the airplane somewhere in sight so that when it ran out of fuel, you had at least a prayer of locating it.

An alternative to R/C was free flight. Here, the airplanes take on a variety of shapes and designs; most with a high wing, low center of gravity and lots of dihedral, making them inherently stable. Most has small glow engines with very limited fuel supply allowing the engine run time to be measured in seconds. The idea was to use the engine to gain altitude in wide climbing circles so when the engine quit, the airplane because a glider and slowly descended, again in wide gentle circles. This usually kept the airplane within visual sight unless there were any prevailing winds. Even a gentle breeze could put the plane into the next town and very often on top of a tree. Because of the distances involved and the lack of positive control over direction, free flight flying was generally done in very wide-open spaces. Once such area was the Glastonbury meadows located alongside the banks of the Connecticut River. This area was flat and mostly devoid of trees. Flooding each spring when the river rose as a result of the upper New England snowmelt, farmers used this land to grow hay. Because of it being wetlands; it remained for the most part, undeveloped and ideal for model flying; R/C or free flight.

My father worked in the Post Office with a fellow name Ralph Sweet. Ralph was a bachelor and would occasionally visit us, probably to have his TV repaired. For some reason, he decided to build himself a static model of a Piper J-3 Cub and picked m R/C kit of a six foot Cub. Berkley manufactured two such kits: the Cub and a Cessna 170. Both had six-foot wingspans and were designed for R/C although someone with a little ingenuity could have converted them into U-Control. Ralph picked the Cub and built it as a static model, hanging it in his front porch upon completion. It was painted yellow with the standard Cob thunderbolts and because of it’s sheer size, was quite impressive. When Ralph heard of my interest in airplanes, he told my father that he was going to give this model to me so to my delight, one day he loaded into a station wagon and delivered it to our house. It was very well built but again, constructed as a model to display, not fly. The biggest challenge was the fact the wing was glued on rather than attached with rubber bands which is customary with flying models. Eventually, I removed the cowl and installed an old green head K&B Torpedo .29 on the motor mount. Since it had a fixed rudder and elevator, I added small trim tabs in order to trip the plane to fly straight and level. The plan was to see if we could fly this as a free flight and get it into a shallow climbing left turn. With a minimum of fuel, I figured we could get it in the air and watch it fly and when it ran out of fuel, make a gentle landing. As it would later turn out, most of this was “wishful thinking”.

Enlisting the help of my cousin Richie and his father, we headed off to the meadows. The plan was to fly their R/C Mambo and later, see if we could get the Cub into the air. After a few unsuccessful attempts at flying the Mambo, we directed our attention to the Cub. Richie’s dad suggested that we balance the model and test glide it over some tall grass. That way, we could see which way it turned and adjust the trim tabs accordingly. Back in those days, there was little knowledge of the effect propeller wash has over the control surfaces which would later prove our “test glide” data to be in error. After a number of so called “glides” we fuel it up and estimated the run time to be 5 minutes or so.  With the engine running, we ran down the dirt road and gave the Cub a mighty too over the hayfields. As I recall, it went into an immediate right turn, dropped a wing, stalled and hit the “hay” on such an angle that the wing broke in half and shattered the cabin support structure. Well, at least we could now attach the wing with rubber bands!

A post mortem inspection revealed significant damage which probably could have been repaired with a little effort (and the money to purchase glue, balsa wood and silk covering materials, always in short supply those days!). What I ended up doing was making a wing saddle on top of the bottom of the side windows, turning it into sort of “shoulder wing” Piper Cub!  A few more attempts to fly it over the course of the next month or so were met without much additional success. Eventually, this beautiful static model ended up in the garbage and free flight was abandoned.

In later years around 1970, the meadows are would change from hayfields to “turf” farms forming a fabulous place to fly R/C aircraft. By that time, radios were digital proportional, engines were equipped with throttles and would rise off the ground on their own power. By this time, I was finishing up my stint of active duty with the Army and my father along with Paul Senyk and a few others were getting pretty good with flying R/C.


Dad builds a “Thunderbird”

My father was a true craftsman. Patient, he would spend hours carefully sanding and finishing just one small part of a model. I would say that I could probably build and cover and entire kit in the time my Dad would spend on build the tail! Sometime after winning and building the Super Ringmaster, my father must have been bitten by the balsa bug because it wasn’t long before he headed out to a local hobby shop and purchased a Veco “Thunderbird” and a Veco.35C engine. The Thunderbird  model had been designed by a champion U-control stunt flyer named Bob Palmer. His Thunderbird won many, many contests and spawned numerous look alike models. Even today, in an AMA event call “old time stunt” Thunderbirds are quite common.

Dad bought this kit and I’m not sure just where. I would imagine it was at E.J. Korvettes’ in Hartford but as I recall, not only did he by the kit, but the motor, spinner, fuel tank and assorted glues and paints. That was a real advantage because as a kid, buying the construction supplies was a challenge and we often had to wait until the financial resources because available.

Dad took the kit to his TV workshop and began construction of the fuselage. This was probably around 1959 and work proceeded at a steady pace. Eventually, family demands, TV work and our newly acquired 1957 Lyman runabout would detract from airplane building time. As I said earlier. Dad was a patient man and so after about a year or so, the fuselage was nearly done. He spent hours and hours shaping the front end and cowl and in those day, we used sanding sealer and filler to fill in the balsa grain in order to get a smooth finish for painting. Later, that process would move to fiberglass resin and later the newer polymer plastic iron-on finishes. At any rate, the fuselage is nearly complete, the engine fuel tank and spinner are installed but that is the condition it remains even today. By this time vacations and other obligations took over and the Thunderbird was relegated to an obscure spot on the back workbench in my Dad’s shop. Later, as my father and I would devote countless hours working together on R/C airplanes, he would often look over at the T-Bird and say “Someday I’m going to finish that!” Today, in the year almost 2013, some 53 years later, the Thunderbird remains packed away in my cellar in exactly the same state as when my dad last worked on it. I too have a desire to someday finish that model. I have all the parts as well as the original plans and even the spinner, tank, and accessories all in their original boxes.




RC at the Glastonbury Meadows

As we have learned from earlier chapters, the radio control aspect of the model airplane hobby was present early on; even in the early sixties.  Our cousins, the Thurz’s were early practitioners of the radio control concepts at a time when costs, reliability and availability of equipment were both limited and questionable.  While most of us were off flying and enjoying our glow fuel Ukie’s (U-control) in the school yards there were a few pioneers who pursued the single and later multi channel RC.  These craft were controlled by a single channel transmitter/receiver and the aircraft control surfaces operated by rubber band actuated escapements.  A few had servos but they were heavy, bulky and expensive.  Besides, most of these early craft were of a single control surface so the one channel was all you needed.  Certainly, features such as proportional control were but a dream and directional control was accomplished via a rudder command; one blip for left and two quick blips for right.  That’s either full left or full right.  To make a turn to the left, one would press the button and hold it momentarily then release it.  As the place began to fall out of the turn, the pilot would blip another single command with the button and hold it for a short time.  Since these planes were what are called “inherently stable” meaning they would return straight and level flight, once the button was released, the plane would tend to right itself and resume normal flight.  Consequently, a turn was more like a series of “bumps” until the appropriate direction was obtained.  Speaking of direct of “direction”, in these early days it was an accomplishment to launch a plane, make a few turns to keep the plane in sight and get it back in once piece.  In reality, the plane flew itself as well as the pilot and most pilots were content to just see the thing in the air.  That would change of course in the later years when one’s piloting skill were judged by their ability to make the plane do what they commanded   rather than the other way around.

Of course, to accomplish these things one needed an area with lots of open space and devoid of trees. (Airplane have a nasty habit of finding the most remote tree in the area and generally lodging themselves at the topmost branches necessitating find either someone with tree climbing skills or access to a chainsaw. Sometime both were required.  In my home town of Glastonbury, a couple of locations afforded sufficient space without people of buildings on one such area was the meadows.  The State of Connecticut was name after a river which is an Indian term meaning “long tidal river”.  The Connecticut River begins in Canada and end at Long Island Sound.  Water depth changes with the tides and in the early spring, by the melting snows accumulating along its headwaters in the North.  Consequently, in the spring, floodwaters spill over the banks of the river and occupy the meadow areas of flatlands adjacent to the river valley.  Since this is generally and annual occurrence, building and other permanent structures are impractical since they would be flooded out and possibly destroyed each spring.  What this does create however, are ideal farmlands and flat open spaces which are ideal for flying model airplanes.   The “Meadows” as we referred to them became our model airports by default.  If there were any crops, most were hay and not susceptible of severe damage by a few crazy hobbyists walking through then search for errant model aircraft.  Additionally, as the hay would grow it would create a soft blanket of protection that would cushion the somewhat uncontrolled aspects of the landings and minimize damage to the aircraft.  Taken all around, the “meadows” were ideally suited for our needs in those early days of RC aviation.  I say early days because in a sense, we were all amateur “Wright Brothers” never really certain of what our crafts would do in any given situation and while we were not necessarily trying to hide our experimentation from a curious public, we were looking for a certain degree of isolation to avoid the need of explaining some our failures.  Indeed, the meadows were our “Huffman’s Prairie”.

One day I learned that a local hobby shop in the area had decided to close up shop and put everything on sales.  By this time, a couple of us had just gotten back into the u-control aspect of the hobby so we all decided to see what kind of bargains we could negotiate from this disappearing shop.  You must remember that this was circa 1968 and quite some time since my cousin’s early experimentation with single channel RC.  As luck would have it, this hobby shop had all the components for a single channel RC in the form of an OS Pixie, including transmitter, receiver and servo (by now servos were replacing the earlier rubber band escapements).  To top it off, the shop also had a Goldberg “Ranger 42” which was a very early form of the modern day “ARF: in that it was made from Styrofoam and powered by a .049 ½ A glow engine.  Well, after considerable “hemming and hawing” I was talked into the purchase by my friends and soon found myself the proud owner of not only an RC aircraft, but with all the radio components necessary for it to fly!  If I only knew then…….

I didn’t take too long before my very first RC was finished and ready for its maiden flight.  As I write this some 40 years later I can reflect back upon the fact this particular aircraft was unique in that it was made from Styrofoam.  This meant it could not be painted with the aircraft dope we would normally use on model aircraft as that would melt the foam.  Experimentation with a variety of new “polyurethane” house paints were tried and produced fair results by at least putting some “color” on an otherwise white aircraft which is difficult to see in the air. Today, Styrofoam is a common material for a plethora of R/C aircraft ranging from small electric foamies up to large scales aircraft.

Adhesives were another challenge on this foam model.  Early U-control aircraft were assembled using Ambroid cement but this type of glue like the model paint would have attacked the foam.  Fortunately, epoxy cements were just emerging and a one of my friends, Mike Madel used this new adhesive in his line of work as a technician at P&WA.  Mike supplied us with a never ending supply that to the generosity of P&WA.

My father was really interested in this since it had to do with “radios” as well as models.  We were both bitten by the bug!  It took almost no time to decide that the Glastonbury Meadows would be the location for our first flight.  Like the trek to Kitty Hawk, this band of early RC flyers included my Dad, me and usually Paul Senyk, another Spring Street chum and fellow modeler.

Our first few fights were probably the best. With a very dependable Cox Thimble Drome .049 engine, we got reliable starts. With the model balance and test glided, we fired up the engine and tossed it in the air. It flew! It was time to make a turn but what I didn’t know was by holding in the rudder command too long, the wing would drop, it would stall and spiral in. What we learn far later (after it was too late) was single channel rudder only pilots to “blip” the rudder command and the plane would maintain altitude and not stall. En flyin over the tall grass in the meadows, hard landing caused damage. We would get a partial flight or two before it broke and back to the shop we would go. This involved using more and more epoxy cement which added weight and eventually made the plane unflyable. But, this model convinced my father and I that RC modeling was indeed our future. For years afterwards, talk of planes, radios & servos would be the subject of our dinnertime conversations. As I’ve reported earlier, my father was a self-made man and anything he didn't know or understand, he obtained books on the subject and “studied up”.


Eventually Dad would purchase a Heathkit digital proportional radio system and between he and my friend Mike Madel would assemble all the components and got it working. Im the meantime, my friend Lee and I joined the Northern Connecticut Radio Control club in Granby Ct. As new members of the club, we learned one of the best RC trainers was the DeBolt “Champ”. We both purchased the kits and began construction Lee opted to buy a built radio and ended up with a four channel “Orbit”. Lee was successful in building the model and taking it to the field where a more experienced RC modeler would go over the plane in detail to be sure it was suitable to fly. The biggest challenge in flying a new model is obtaining the initial “trim”. You really need to know how to fly to handle an out-of-trim model. This was the benefit of belonging to a club. Lee’s plane was trimmed and few successfully, the very first time.

Dad and I were plagued with problems. First, the kit radio was assembled by Mike but would not work. Dad took over and after cleaning off most of the solder flux used, it began to respond. Dad also obtained an HP “triggered” oscilloscope that was needed to adjust these digital radios, especially the servos. Dad was learning a great deal about the radio while I built the plane and experimented with this new plastic covering called “monocoat”. Finally, the day had come with the radio installed in the plane, we were off to the meadows for our test flight. Again, we were too stubborn to seek help. First , the plane was out of trim. Second, we really didn’t know how to fly RC. Third, we were plagued with a problem of the Heathkit servos losing their adjustment at any time. This of course would dramatically alter the trim setting and cause a crash. Well, as you have probably guessed, like the original “foam” single channel model, we brought the new :Champ” back in pieces. This same process would repeat itself again and again. The servos would move and dad would go home and research the problem while I spent time in the basement rebuilding a “re-kitted” plane. Finally, I was frustrated beyond what I could stand. Radios in those days were expensive; in the range of $400. One night Lee and I headed off to Hill’s Hobby Hut in South Windsor where I plunked down $400 and ordered a new 4-channel Kraft radio. When Dad heard this , he felt bad. He wanted so much to make the Heathkit work but I was tired of crashing and repairing. The original “Champ” was a mess so Dad commissioned a fellow in Glastonbury to build us another from scratch. I took the framed up model and added the covering and the motor. We carefully installed the Kraft radio but this time, we asked for help. We took the new model to the club field where it was inspected, a few corrections made and finally, a test flight by an experienced pilot. It flew!


Now that we had a trimmed airplane, we could go back to the meadows and with Lee helping, get the model in the air and up high enough (like six mistakes high!) where Lee would hand me the box and I would guide it around in big left hand circles just like we did with U-control. When the motor was about to run out of fuel, I would hand the “box” back to Lee who would land it for us. As time progressed and we gained experience, I would learn how to land the plane successfully (most of the time anyway). What I did not learn until much later in the RC career, was the ability to make both left and right hand turns in order to fly the plane in front of ourselves. Standing in the middle of a big field and flying left hand circles is one thing but at a club field, you need to fly in front of yourself and make landing approaches over either shoulder; both of which take considerable skill and practice.


Dad had patience and discovered the original Heath servos were problematic. He began building the newer, smaller version and those worked fine, Dad installed the Heathkit radio in his plane and enjoyed many, many hours of RC flying. Dad even devised a transmitter platform that he mounted on an old artificial arm that allowed him to hold the box and move the sticks with his left hand. Lee and others would spend hours helping teach my dad to fly, mostly at the meadows.


One day, Dad was flying his new trainer and had it up quite high. Lee was there as well working on his plane when my father said those gut wrenching words no RC’er ever likes to hear; “I ain’t got it!” Lee ran over and grabbed the box to regain control. The plane continued to fly in a gentle left hand turn. Lee said “Frank, I see what you mean!” Eventually, the plane ran out of fuel and began gliding. Still without any control whatsoever, the plane went behind a row of trees and out of sight. Now, behind those trees was the Connecticut River. Dad and Lee jumped in the car and drove south to the Glastonbury-Rocky Hill Ferry where they boarded. Sure enough, in the distance they could see Dad’s bright orange trainer, floating in the river in perfect shape. Unfortunately, they could do nothing about it and returned to the field to pack up. The next day, Dad and I borrowed  his neighbors fishing boat and launched it in the river. We headed up river and hugged the opposite shoreline near the ferry slip. The plane was bright orange so we figured it would be easy to spot. I can’t tell you how many cans, boxes, papers and plastic bottles all in orange are in the river. No luck, we could not find the plane. Then, we decided to head downstream past the ferry towards the Glastonbury Maria. I hugged the west side of the river. Off in the distance we could see orange up against the riverbank. Hooray, it was Dad’s plane , or at least the fuselage as the wing had come off. We retrieved the plane complete with a soaked radio and motor and headed home. Eventually, Dad put the radio gear on top of the furnace where it was warm and within a few weeks, attached a battery pack and fired it up. Success, it worked fine, testimony to the durability of the Heathkit design!  Dad was happy.

Over time, I would eventually get married and other obligations would conflict with modeling. RC would take a “back seat” for a few years. In those days, I lived in West Hartford and the flying field was almost and 90 minute drive one way. My wife was never very enthusiastic about model airplane anyway. If you couldn't wear it or eat it, it had little value in her mind. The equipment remained on the shelf in my basement. Eventually, my first wife and I would part company go our separate ways. I was busy at work and had purchased a condominium in Manchester. The condo had a full basement and over time, I built up workshop although not necessarily for airplane. Them one day while I was visiting an old friend, Tom Derby who was also a modeler. I saw this kit he had on a sitting on a shelf. It turned out to be a Sig Astro Hog ( an old aerobatic trainer that was popular in the early sixties.) Together with the kit was a new OS.61 4-cycle airplane motor. These were the newest things in RC and I found myself writing a check and bringing the stuff home to the condo. Once again, I was back in my workshop building a RC airplane. I rejoined the NCRCC who by then, had relocated their flying filed to Ellington. By spring, the model was finished. I purchased a new radio and one a warm sunny afternoon, I brought everything to the field. I ran a few tanks of fuel through the motor to break it in before flying. Another old friend and former Glastonbury Meadows flyer, Bob Beaudette agreed to take it up for it’ s first flight. Bob looked it over, fueled it and started the motor. Taxing out to the grass runway, it was soon airborne. Wow, the 4-cycle motor sound so realistic and quiet. The plane was easily trimmed and Bob soon handed me the box. Within a few minutes it all came back to me like riding a bicycle, and I spent the remainder of the enjoyable afternoon flying that Astro Hog. It was slow and rock solid but could still do most of the aerobatic maneuvers that it was designed for some 50 years earlier!

As things would turn out, I ended up becoming President of NCRCC and served in that capacity for two consecutive years. I was once again back into modeling in a serious way. I built a number of sport airplanes and even experiment with a new “electric” glider.Then the racing bug hit me and a few of us began building and racing Quickee 500’s. There are low wing simple models powered by a K&B .40 sport motor running on 15% nitro fuel. We practiced and practiced. We formed racing teams and would travel to Hady Mass, Bridgewater Mass, Farmington Connecticut and our Ellington field to race. It was great comradeship as racers by nature are an outgoing and friendly group of modelers. We kept this up for a few years, even taking a brief  shot at Formula One and FAI racing. We were really into it going as far as constructing a mold to build fiberglass fuselages for Quickie 500 planes. It was fun and stressful, all at the same time.


Modeling can be a time consuming endeavor and mush f this is devoted to building and assembling models. Some modelers build form kits while other , more ambitious fellow will build from scratch, using plans only. A typical sport plane can be built and covered , ready to fly in a month. Sme sooner if you can devote 6 hours a day to the task,=. Then somewhere around 1995 the ARF (almost Ready to Fly) emerged on the market. These were kits assembled and covered in mainland China. Packaged in huge boxes, the would arrive and would require a few hours of assembly. The construction of these were fantastic in terms of quality. Yes, some used glues that were not as strong as we would sometimes prefer but the looked great. There were also true and straight. The price was very reasonable and before long, kit manufacturers began to dwindle. Nobody was building kits anymore when you could have a quality ARF. There were also a number of ARC or “almost ready to cover”. These were basically framed up models that you would apply your own covering scheme and when completed, could not be distinguished as an ARF model. Finally, a modeler could gain entry into the hobby without spending months building a plane and then worrying about crashing it  and having nothing  to fly. With ARF’s it was a simple matter to assemble a squadron of planes, all ready to go at a moment's notice. All it took was money!


Soon after the introduction of the built up balsa ARF’s from China, Eastern Europeans perfected the use of closed cell styrofoam to construct ARF’s. There were super light weight models designed for the new brushless electric motors and lithium polymer batteries that were showing up in the marketplace. These new electrics were quite the thing although many o f the old time gas modelers scoffed at the idea of using electrics. The problem was, few knew much about them and the components were pricing,The new battery chemistry was unique and if you failed to follow a prescribed procedure , you could end up destroying a $100 (or more!) battery pack or worse yet, a fire and possibly your house. About the time these were coming of age, a new type of competition called freestyle aerobatics was a huge hit. These planes, using powerful multi-cylinder chain saw style motors swinging 20 inch props or larger were quite a sight to see. With smoke devices turned on, you could watch the accomplished pilot “hover” a 8 foot biplane off the prop with the tail feathers only inches from the ground. Still the electrics were slow to gain a foothold until one day, an internationally accomplished aerobatic pilot built a large demonstration model but powered it with an electric motor. When he won a national competition, people began to notice.Today, electrics are the dominant force in modeling.


I moved into electrics in a big way. I even began constructing some of my own motors. Using both ARF’s and foam models from europe and accumulated a large stable of planes. I recall driving to the field with 4 or 5 models in the car. The beauty of electrics was the lack of needing to be cleaned of castor oil residue. You simply tossed them back in the care at the end of a flying session. Life is good! And did some of these models look good!  The closed cell l foam models of WWII aircraft were a thing of beauty. Highly detailed and designed with minimal weight, they looked as good as they flew, and that was not always true with the older, built up scale models.



© Joe 2014