Aviation has always been a large part of my life. As a small boy I would build model airplanes by the dozens. Occasionally I would also jump off the roof of my house with a blanket tied to the back of my ankles, my wrists and shirt back, and at the neck, hoping to soar like an eagle. It never did work and with the resulting pain, I quit.
Charles Lindbergh was my hero and idol, and I just knew that if I read a book about him and looked at the pictures of his “Spirit of St. Louis,” I would just know how to fly.
At fifteen I enticed my father to take me for a ride in the car and have a father-son afternoon together. Sort of a “bonding” event for the two of us. I had learned that an old school chum of his ran the FBO operation at the Eugene, Oregon airport. I had visited with him earlier and we had set a trap. “Just bring out your Dad and we’ll get him sold on the idea that you should take flying lessons,” he said. Dad and I drove around in our old ’44 Nash sedan and just by chance passed the old dirt strip that was the airport. Approaching the airport I said, “Hey Dad, let’s stop and look at the airplanes.” It worked like a charm. We stopped and were met by Mr. Max Green, the old school friend, and before the afternoon was over, I had taken my first airplane ride and had bought $100 worth of flying lessons.
The old school chum assured my Dad that he had let me handle the controls and that I was a “natural”—a “born to be” aviator, and at only 15. My Dad caved in gracefully as planned and his only concern was what to tell my mother when we got home. He suffered real punishment but the money had been deposited.
As time passed I could think only of flying and finally soloed on August 23rd, 1946 in an old Aronca Champ NC58601. I’ll never forget the thrill. Then followed several years of flying many of the old “tail draggers”—Ercoupes, Luscombes, Swift 120’s, Piper J-5s, Cessnas, Stearmans, Super-cruisers, Fairchilds, Vultee PT-13’s, Stinsons, Moony’s, etc. After my $100 was spent, I had to earn my own flight time, a term my mother had imposed.
After that all my flights were 15 and 20 minute sessions because I couldn’t afford much flying time with my part time job and school. After graduating from Eugene High School in 1947 I went to the New Mexico Military Institute and graduated from their junior college program by 1949, flying whenever I could.
I had about 100 hours by then. The next year I attended the University of Oregon as a junior and continued in ROTC. Then, just before graduating, when I would receive my commission as a 2nd Lt. in the infantry, I learned that the Army was offering all young officers the opportunity to enter the new Army flight training program for experienced pilots.
I jumped at the chance and was accepted, so after graduation and receipt of my commission, I was sent to officers’ training at Fort Benning, Georgia. After training, most of my class went directly to Korea while I stayed for flight trainng. Shortly thereafter, I had earned my military wings and orders to Korea. Fortunately, I had also applied for helicopter training at the Fort Benning rotary wing school with a "delay en route."
Now as a "double threat" man, qualified for rotary and fixed wing, I was sent to Korea for two years to win the "police action." While there, I qualified for twin engines and checked out in the old Army "Beaver." What an aircraft, for if you could load it, you could fly it.
In 1955 I returned to Portland, Oregon, where my wife, Georgann, had set up our home. I joined the Oregon Army National Guard and kept building time in rotary and fixed wing. In 1969 we moved to Seattle where I joined the Washington Army National Guard. It was there that I realized that I only wanted to fly, and became the State Aviation Maintenance Supervisor for the Washington Army National Guard at Fort Lewis. Now a captain, I concurrently became a unit commander of the Aviation Company at Camp Murray while working at Gray Field at nearby Fort Lewis.
Several of my officers were also airline pilots for United, Northwest and West Coast airlines. Several of them suggested that I consider being a "real pilot" and go for the gusto. Since I now had two beautiful daughters and a wife who was very supportive, I did just that.
I took my Staynine test with United and was turned down but was warmly welcomed by Pan American.
On Valentines Dauy in 1966 I entered navigator training with Pan Am at their San Francisco base. As I trained in a Boeing 707 the thrill of operating four throttles instead of one was nearly too wonderful for words. Still, I continued to fly for the Washington Army Guard in fixed wing and rotary craft. I checked out that year in the 707 but I wanted to "drive" the beast. The only upside to navigating was the tight squeeze I gained by keeping my seat in the full rear position when the "beanies," our affectionate term for stewardesses, passed me as they went to serve the real pilots.
As time went by, my lovely daughters continued to grow up, and we returned to Portland, where their 4-H leaders encouraged them to raise every four legged beast and most of the birds found in this part of the U.S. at our farm. Which they did. I commuted to each San Fransisco flight because I could get a cockpit pass. I hate to buy airline tickets.
I had stopped logging my own personal flight time for the company because they did it for me. By that tine I had about 5000 hours.
In October, 1974, my seniority allowed me to check out in the right seat. What a day--I finally had a permanent window seat. From San Fransisco, we had two daily flights around the world via an eastern and a western route. Each trip lasted 11 or 12 days. The San Fransisco base gave me the Pacific routes, and I thought I was in Heaven going to all thee neat places. Mercy, life was so good.
In 1970, the family required more space for their Morgan show horses, helping me decide to move to a large plot of land in Redmond, Oregon near where my wife was born and raiseed. We also farmed seed potatoes, wheat, alfalfa, and a few head of cattle. Georgann set up the nursing program at Central Oregon Community College, as she had a Masters Degree in nursing education. I still flew for the Washington National Guard even though I lived in Oregon.
Finally my seniority allowed me to train for the 747 in June, 1979. Life was really good. At the end of my taining, I had a check ride in "ole 866." The training captain and the FFA inspector said the sweetest words I had ever heard--"You'll do."
What a treat, flying all over the world in a 747 every month. Boy, something must be wrong for life was too good. It was, for I was getting older and I realized that I had only four more years until the retirement ax dropped on me. My 60th birthday was coming up soon. In 1985 I had retired as a Lt. Col. and had been moved earlier to the position of Inspector General for the state of Washington with 23 years under my belt.
Around then an opening came up for a 727 captain's slot in Berlin, Germany, and I wantd that left seat. Since the daughters were now grown and on their own, and my dog had died, I had the opportunity to strike out on another adventure. I trained at the Miami Flight Academy and finally got my left seat window. I felt I really deserved it. Georgann and I moved to Germany and settled in downtown Berlin for the last four years of my flying career. We were there the night the Berlin wall came down. What excitement and revelry, for the world had cbanged.
The 19th of March 1990 came too soon, as on the fateful day I pulled up to the terminal at Tagle airport in Berlin, and was signaled by the ground crew that the chocks were in place. I shut down the engines for the last time, then turned to my first officer and said, "Well, scratch one career." I think he was grinning because he realized there was now one more seniority number out of his way. Every German on the aircraft stopped by the cockpit door to congratulate me and wish me well--a very touching moment.
I lost Georgann to cancer three years later after taking many trips to places we had not been before. At least we "had a ball" before I lost her to the ravages of cancer. About seven years later I met my lovely new wife, Karen, with whom I have been truly blessed.
She had also lost her spouse about the same time I lost Georgann. It has been wonderful to have a loving companion such as she for these last ten years. More happy years to come, I truly believe.
Since my retirement, I have mostly given up flying and have not really missed it that much. Occasionally I'll go up with a friend who owns a plane but the thrill of just going up and boring holes in the sky seems to have passed.
Then came that fateful day in February 2017 when ALS took my wife, Karen. She is sorely missed and thought of often.
I have been licensed to fly for over 50 years and have logged around 33,000 hours. It's wonderful to understand the feeling most aviators have when they soar aloft among the clouds, released from the surly bond of earth, and touch the face of God. It has truly been a wonderful career.
Frank "Neil" Chase
