1999 EAA AirVenture Report

I had watched the Doppler radar blobs march across central Wisconsin the night before without a thought. After all, I was much too busy packing for my trip to Oshkosh to worry about that stuff now. I wasn’t flying and the motorcycle was staying home. No, this trip would be made in the relative comfort of the pickup truck, the one mode of transportation sorely needed when towing a 25 foot travel trailer.

I should have paid attention.

I arrived at Camp Scholler a week ahead of the big show. I would, I planned with military precision, spend a fair part of that first week relaxing and enjoying some ol’ fashioned peace and quiet. What I found waiting behind the main gate of Camp Scholler was anything but what I had planned for.

“Okay,” the nice lady said to me as a rather curious gentleman stood nearby and stared at me, “here’s your sticker for the windshield and your sticker for the camper and don’t forget to fill out the card so we can find you if we need to.”

“Just put out food.” I suggested. “I’ll turn up.”

For some reason, that weak joke prompted the curious gentleman to speak up.

“You been here before?”

“Yep, but I came back anyway.” The second joke was lost on him too.

“All right then, I want you to pull your rig up to the fella with the Gator right at the end of the gravel road. Okay?”

“Yep,” I agreed.

“Don’t go further. Just up to the fella with the green Gator truck. You got that?”

“Yep.”

I must have agreed too readily for him, somehow giving him the impression that I had no idea what dangers awaited me within. He was right. As I pulled away from the main gate, I looked in my mirror and saw both the curious gentleman and the nice lady waving good-bye. The thought occurred to me that they looked too much like the folks in that movie waving good-bye to the Titanic from the docks for me to feel comfortable about it all. This did not look good.

The fella with the Gator was at the end of the gravel road, just as promised. He approached my open window with the look of a State Trooper.

“Okay now, here’s what I want you to do.” That standard line must be taught at EAA Volunteer school. “You see where those motorhomes are parked along Oak?”

“Yup.” Eyes worked - check.

“I want you to pull over next to them and wait for us to tell you when you can pull on to the grass.”

“Didn’t they do this in Oklahoma a long time ago?”

“Huh?” He didn’t get my silly little joke about the OK Land Rush. I resolved to stop making wisecracks.

“Never mind, sir, my medication hasn’t kicked in yet. What’s the problem with the grass.”

“It’s wet.”

That’s all?” A little wet grass never hurt anybody. He just stared at me for a second.

“You been here before?”

It suddenly struck me. Camp Scholler dirt plus rain equals the goopiest mud you’ve ever seen. Whole Class A motorhomes have been swallowed up, never to be seen again! At least that was the rumor I started two years ago.

“Yes, sir!” I agreed to comply.

When I turned the corner onto the gravel street called Oak, I could see standing water everywhere in the fields of the campground. They had nearly four inches of rain in the prior couple of days and the clay under the grass turned into the only substance on Earth that I know of that is both sticky and slick depending on whether it’s touching clothes or car tires. There was no way I was going near anything green. The road, however, looked fine. Instead of pulling over with the giant motorhomes, I pressed on.

Down Oak I drove, on to the promised land of Paul’s Wood. I told myself that at the first sign of excessive water, I would pull over as promised. There was, I reasoned, no problem so far.
I made it all the way down to Paul’s Wood, saw my favorite site already taken, and pulled over to figure out Plan-B. That’s when I discovered that I had been tailed.

“I thought I told you to pull over!” He was miffed.

“Yep. Here I am, pulled over.”

“Not here!” Yep, he was angry.

“Sorry. I didn’t see a problem with moving a little further down. Would you like me to go back?” I really would go back, but my offer seemed to calm him down a bit, not a lot, just a bit.

“Just don’t go on the grass!” he commanded before he sped off to man his Gator in time for the next lost soul who ventured in.

Alone now amid the nearly empty soggy fields of Scholler, I walked onto the grass. It was like walking on a sponge, water backfilling the impression made by every step. There were a few campers already sprinkled here and there and I couldn’t imagine how they got out there. The ground was, for lack of a better descriptive word, actually slurpy. I retreated into the camper, deployed the pretzels and cola, and waited for the word.

Three hours later, no word.

In fact, after five hours, nobody was even around to give the word. I hiked up the road to see what I could see.

Many of the campers that had been pulled over were now on the grass and making camp. The ground was still soft, but everyone except a handful, had gone to their campsites. Hm, I thought, maybe I’ve misjudged the situation. Maybe it’s just fine to pull the camper over. After all, the site right next to the road isn’t too far from solid ground. I should be able to pull the camper on it, unhook it, and pull the truck right back on the road no problem at all. Besides, there’s this thing called nighttime that I’d like to be ready for.

Trudging back to the truck, I walked over the campsite one more time. Still spongy, but I could swear that it was much nicer. Let’s camp!

I fired the truck up, swung wide to get a good run at the campsite, and blasted onto the grass in clear violation of the official directive that had been given me. This would be great! You finally arrived when you make camp and, by golly, I was at Oshkosh!

I almost made it.

The camper has just gotten inside the marker tape that I had laid out when the rear tires dug in. I was stuck. Unhitching the trailer was no help. I rocked and rolled and huffed and puffed but I couldn’t blow that truck out of the mucky ruts that had captured her. I shut off the truck and patiently waited for the irritated gentleman on the Gator to come by to tell me off. Feeling dumb would have been a vast improvement over the way I felt at that moment.

The biggest truck I’ve ever seen in my life happened by within minutes. I must have looked terribly forlorn because the driver pulled over.

“You stuck?”

My sorrowful expression included a full boo-boo lip as I nodded plaintively.

“No sweat,” he said. “I can pull you out.”

We few! We HAPPY few! WE BAND OF BROTHERS! I was pleased, you betcha.
True to his word, he pulled my truck out and I parked it safely on the road.

I would spend the next two weeks explaining to folks that the awkward position of the trailer on the campsite was actually calculated scientifically. I could explain it all, of course, but it was rather technical. I certainly didn’t want to bore anyone. <ahem>

The next day, I gave Charlie Becker, EAA’s Director of Information Services and unabashed Hatz Nut a call. Charlie had asked me to bring along the Hi-Tech Wing Rib Jig that had just been published in Sport Aviation (June, 1999). He was looking for ideas to add to the Wood Workshop and thought the rib jig might be neat to have on display. I, of course, was just thrilled to death over the idea.

Charlie and I had traded phone calls and emails about the jig and I offered to spend a little time at the Workshop answering questions for folks about the jig. Eventually, Charlie agreed that having me around a bit might be a good thing. We agreed to meet when I got in at Oshkosh and discuss it further.

I met Charlie at Homebuilder’s Headquarters on a very empty, but a very busy AirVenture site. It was great to finally meet him after so much communication back and forth between us and we hit it off well. Charlie has an enthusiasm and infectious smile that could win over even the grumpiest of folks. I can’t imagine too many folks say “no” to Charlie for long.

We headed out to a place on the site called the “Aeroplane Factory” in a nondescript building near Camp Scholler. Out of the way and rarely visited, the Aeroplane Factory is one of several locations where some guy named Paul Poberezny builds his aircraft. My jaw dropped when I walked in through the door behind Charlie. Imagine the interior of your dream workshop and age it thirty years. Over those thirty years, collect pictures and memorabilia from places and friends to hang on the walls. Sprinkle wings and fuselages everywhere. Top it off with the required old refrigerator, bar, and old steel desk. Finally, add the aroma of a place filled with sitka spruce, oiled steel, glue, and fabric all coming together in a rustic wood structure that wouldn’t look out of place in the Forties. That, my friends, is the Aeroplane Factory. I wanted desperately for someone to adopt me so I could stay.

I was introduced to George Applebee and Lynn Buckingham who were busily building wings for one of Paul Poberezny’s latest projects. Both from New Mexico - George confirmed that New Mexico was indeed one of the United States - they had been in Oshkosh for quite a while helping Paul finish the aircraft. Lynn was the rib expert, forming quality truss ribs at a rapid rate. George, one of the founders of Soaring Society of America, was constructing the wings nearby. I was surprised to hear George mention the Hi-Tech Rib Jig and that he was interested in looking it over.

I liked this guy!

After our all too brief visit to the Aeroplane Factory, Charlie and I retreated back to his office to discuss some new web site ideas that Charlie and EAA were working on. I don’t know whether it’s okay to mention anything or not, but do know I have to tell you that EAA has NOT forgotten the homebuilder, in spite of what it may seem like. The work that Charlie and others are doing at Headquarters on some new website ideas will be GREAT! As they say in radio, stay tuned.

I got a sudden idea to make some engraved nametags for myself and Dale Sever, the two AHA officers at AirVenture this year. I went up to Oshkosh Trophy, on the north side of Oshkosh, to ask them to engrave some spiffy AHA nametags for us. Connie wasn’t thrilled, but she said they would try to get them done by Tuesday. They had something going with some little outfit called EAA. Something about trophies for EVERYTHING! Poor Connie and the folks at Oshkosh Trophy. We got our badges on time and, considering the circumstances, it was a minor miracle. When I stopped by to pick up the tags, I had to go in the back room to get Connie since everyone and I mean EVERYONE there was busy finishing up plaques and trophies for the big show.

Charlie Becker wanted to try something new at AirVenture this year called “mini-forums”. These were small builder-oriented forums given in an open pavilion adjacent to the Workshops. Charlie had asked whether I would be interested in doing a couple on the Hatz. I agreed and the times were set. I had a nagging suspicion that I should probably prepare something for them, just in case someone showed up. A quick trip to Kinko’s and I had plenty of hand-outs. I was ready.

Saturday morning was spent with the Wood Workshop folks getting set up. Tables, signs, you name it were moved and mounted as best as we could find ways to do it all. Finally, Charlie gathered all the Wood Workshop folks around him.

“Okay, I thought I would be able to be here all the time, but I can’t, so if you have any questions, see Doug. He’s in charge.”

I was tugging nervously on Charlie’s arm. “Uh, Charlie, wait a sec....”

“And if you need anything, see Doug. Alright? He’ll have the lists too.”

“Charlie?” I tugged harder. “Mr. Becker, sir?”

“So, does anybody have any questions?” he asked without noticing my waving hand. “Okay, then. I’ll see you guys later.”

When we were out of earshot of the folks, I stopped Charlie to pose my question.

“Charlie, what the hell was that? I can’t run the Wood Workshop!”

“You run a Chapter, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know how to deal with people. You’ll be fine. Just make sure they sign in and out everyday. Simple.”

Like I said, not too many folks can say “no” to Charlie Becker.

Rick Hansen (Hatz #208, Oshkosh Grand Champion, 1986) showed up at my trailer on Saturday evening. Dale Severs was flying his Hatz, New Vintage, in the following morning and Rick and I made our plans to meet for breakfast before heading out to the flightline to meet Dale at 7:00 a.m.

Right at 7:00, Sunday morning, a well-fed Rick and I trundled out to the field. There was surprisingly little traffic and every dot in the sky was eyed suspiciously for two wings. There were none.

By 8:00, we were supposing and surmising what could possibly be holding up the show. Dale, we assumed, got off to a late start.

At 9:00, a small biplane appeared downwind for 36, the NORDO approach. It was Dale and his son. Rick and I were VERY pleased to see them - we were out of coffee.

The show aircraft parking area was completely empty except for a clip-wing Piper tied down next to Homebuilder’s Headquarters. There was a large area near that that was roped off - probably, we guessed, for the Pietenpol gathering - but that was it. Dale taxied up along side the roped area, was directed to park there by the scooter people, but he waved them off. He didn’t care for the accommodations. A gray-haired gentleman on a Riva scooter waved Dale along to the other side of the ropes. Rick and I, unfortunately, had to walk.

The elder scooterdude placed Dale in a wonderful spot just on the other side of the fence from the Jaguar pavilion. Rather appropriate since Dale has a Rolls-Royce O-200 engine up front. The Hatz was showcased in the corner like a prize, which of course, it is. Dale was happy, the scooterdude was happy, and Rick and I were thirsty from all that walking.

It turned out that Dale was delayed by local fog that didn’t burn off in time for his planned departure time. Rick and I were just glad to see him arrive.

Now we could get more coffee!

There are folks who love to do the same volunteer work at Oshkosh every year. Some have dedicated themselves to a task for twenty or thirty years and more. For me, I like to try different things. This year, weeks before Charlie and I discussed the Wood Workshop, I sent off an email to volunteer some time working the flightline at Vintage (come on, get with it! AirVenture, not Oshkosh and Vintage, not Antique/Classic - it’s for the best...no, really). So far, since I arrived, I had committed to two mini-Hatz forums, the big Hatz forum, displaying and discussing the Rib Jig, and being responsible for the Wood Workshop. Not being too sure how those last two items might pan out, I thought I’d head down the way to get some Flightline Training, just in case.

Flightline Training at Vintage is one of those life experiences. For two hours, you learn how to retrieve unattended lawn chairs (and the secret place where they all go), why scooters are not like motorcycles, why it is necessary to be dramatic when directing aircraft, and how difficult it is to practice directing aircraft using a 300 pound man in a Hawaiian shirt with his arms outstretched like wings. All in all, well worth the little happy face sticker they put on your nametag.

By this time, I had my EAA Chapter 414 nametag on, my official EAA “I work here” nametag on, my Vintage Volunteer nametag on, and two American Hatz Association nametags on. I looked like a new Lycoming engine just out of final inspection. The good part was, nobody ever had to ask my name!

Whittman Field had been pretty empty of aircraft until Tuesday, the day before the start of AirVenture. Then everyone showed up at once. Overnight, aircraft camping filled, the showplane parking filled up, Camp Scholler... well, that was full already. By now, the mud had dried and life in camp was a routine. I had already been here a week, so the start of what I like to call our Convention (not “air show”, please) felt like the carnival in town was openning.

I spent every day of the Convention at the Wood Workshop. The fact was, I liked it there. Being around all those great folks with all that experience was a real pleasure. Meeting people who’d stop by to discuss the Rib Jig or Hatzes or just wood construction in general kept me coming back and staying everyday. I don’t know how many hours I put in over there, but it didn’t feel like that much.

The Hatz mini-forums were great, sparsely attended, but great. I had planned to use them to introduce the Hatz to folks, explaining the differences between the Hatz CB-1, Classic, and Kelly-D designs, etc. You get the picture. I envisioned enlightening the vast uninformed masses who only knew of RV-8s and Kitfoxes. That was the plan. What I got that first day were all my AHA buddies, one fella who was already building and had questions, and a lady who wanted to rest her feet. The discussions revolved around the technical questions that the builder guy had and I let everyone get into the act. Dale felt bad for me, but actually I didn’t mind at all. The whole point of these discussions is to exchange information, not to listen to me drone on and on. It was fine.

The second mini-forum was at 9:00 on Sunday morning. Nobody showed up except one fella who was exactly what I had hoped for - a prospective builder. About half way through our discussion, Technical Counselors in blue vests began to swarm around the area to kibitz. Evidently, there was little to do everywhere. Again, we all simply discussed items rather than having a one-man show. Not so bad, but when the Tech Counselors began to disagree among themselves, I had to try to rescue the poor guy from a fate worse than ... cold coffee.

I understand the mini-forums will happen again next year, but I do hope (1.) they won’t schedule them before 10:00 a.m., (2.) that they put the schedule in the same pull-out section of the official AirVenture program that the large forums are listed in, and (3.) that the Tech Counselors are kept busy during the mini-forums so they don’t interrupt them. They’re nice guys but, like old dogs, they tend to get into trouble if left to wander around with nothing to do. (just kidding, guys!)

The big Hatz Forum on Monday was, I think, one of the best yet. Dale did a great job as Master of Ceremonies. My job, as it always has been, is to do little but nod knowingly at every statement made. I’ve got this Vice-Prez job down pat. Billy Dawson was of immeasurable help, as was Lyman Hatz, who spent some time talking about his Dad and the airplane. There are audio tapes available, I understand. Check the newsletter and get a copy for yourself. It’s worth it.

Hatz Nutz were everywhere, but there were only two Hatz aircraft on the field. Dale’s award-winning Grand Champion and Brad Kramer’s #237 that was stuck in the Maintenance Shop with a cracked exhaust. Here’s Brad’s take on Oshkosh this year:

Hi Doug,

Sorry I didn't get to meet you at Oshkosh. I did get to meet Dale (Severs), Mike (Devroy), the Dawsons & a few others. As for me, I became a permanent fixture in the emergency repair area (thank God for those great volunteers from Iowa who run that place).

It was an interesting trip; with 4 mechanical problems (two were serious enough to make precautionary landings at the nearest airports), stranded and sleeping in a tent while making temporary repairs, the Oshkosh heat & humidity, too many mosquitoes, too many people, my feet hurt from all the walking, didn't take enough clean clothes, showers were smelly with long lines, sat out a few thunderstorms in the tent, spent way too much money, I ran out of cash & so did the ATM, someone stole my tiedowns, and I got a
couple gallons of water in my fuel tank from a crappy old fuel truck in Clear Lake, MN. Not to mention flying 1400 miles in an open cockpit biplane
(OK, THAT part I loved!).

I'll probably go again next year.

Brad Kramer
Hatz 237

By the way, the 'serious' mechanical problems were...

1) A cracked exhaust: fixed (temporarily) by clamping on an automotive extension after landing in the middle of a Citabria convention in New Richmond, WI and then having Miller Welding do some repairs in their Oshkosh tent.

2) Fluctuating oil pressure. I just 'knew' this couldn't be the gauge or electric sender based on the symptoms, so I changed oil (back to multiweight) and messed around a lot with the relief valve. On the return trip it got so back I landed in Henning MN, went to NAPA for a direct-reading gauge and attached the thing to an upper wing fairing. Problem went away... AND my electric gauge still gave weird indications when the engine got warm... WITHOUT A SENDER CONNECTED. Now I suspect the
voltage regulator.

Hope to see lots of Hatz's at next year's Oshkosh.

Me too, Brad.

The heat Brad talked about was oppressive. By Friday, the heat index on the field had risen to 130 degrees. Hundreds of people experienced symptoms of heat related problems. Then, overnight thunderstorms drove the heat out and the rest of AirVenture, especially the weekend, had terrific weather.

The attendance was down a bit this year, but still well over 720,000 folks packed into Whittman Field - all members of EAA. It was cleaner, less crowded, and, I think, better than ever.

AirVenture is something you don’t try to fit to expectations. Expectations will only result in disappointment at worst or ambivalence at best. AirVenture just IS. You go and you are simply there. Let that happen and the AirVenture experience will wash over you like a great, unstoppable wave, carrying you along with it, showing you things you’ve never seen, introducing you to people you’ve never known, giving you experiences you may not have even dreamed about yet, until, when the last event is over and the lights turn out, you know more than you knew and you are more, much more, than you ever were before.

I’ll return to AirVenture next year. I’ve said that fifteen times now and have always done just that. You’ll find me in the Wood Workshop with camp mud on my shoes, sitka spruce sawdust on my shirt, and a smile on my face. If they let me, I think I’ll do that until the day when I fly my Hatz downwind for 36 and tie her down on the green grass of Oshkosh. I’ll wipe the dew from the wings, polish the brass until it gleams, and count the initials on the green sticker on the card that hangs on the prop.

And maybe, just maybe, when Connie and the folks at Oshkosh Trophy work late into the night before AirVenture, she’ll recognize a name lasercut into the plate. Maybe, just maybe.

After all, AirVenture just is.

RETURN TO HOME

Comments and suggestions are always welcome.

Email Doug at thayer5@mindspring.com

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