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Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

I really enjoy reading other people’s high school memories, like the stories Miguel and Vern shared, so, thought I’d throw out an old memory myself. It is something that I have just never been able to get out of my mind, and I hope it doesn't sound completely idiotic . . .

It was the one and only Sunday evening our MYF group met at MY house and it thrilled me to host such an event. We were all mingling, munching on goodies and I thought it was going splendidly.

Then, Ron Vise, and a couple of the other boys approached me. Ron asked if my father knew anything about engines. It took me a couple of minutes to reply, because, frankly, I couldn’t figure out why in the world Ron would ask such a question. You see, being a horse/cowboy & indians minded person, I thought Ron was asking if my dad knew anything about “Injuns.” My dad had an old Indian motorcycle; was Ron talking about that kind of “Injun?” As the wheels in my head picked up speed, it also occurred to me that I had seen Ron and the guys outside with the hood up on Ron’s car. It was then that I realized Ron meant “engines.” Of course! My dad could fix anything – and especially engines. He could build an engine frontwards & backwards with one hand tied behind his back, and blindfolded!

But, rather than answering Ron right away, (and being the deep thinker that I am), my mind continued processing. My dad was a very quiet man. He had worked hard all day and was in the kitchen reading his nightly newspaper. I contemplated whether he would be comfortable (and willing) to go outside with this group of guys and work under the hood of a “who knows what’s been replaced with what” kind of automobile. I came to the conclusion that, because my dad was a really good guy, he would be happy to help anyone out with an automotive problem.

As I opened my mouth to give Ron a positive answer, he disgustedly said “never mind.” He, and the rest of the guys, turned and walked away. Evidently this whole thinking process of mine, and the delay of reply, must have convinced Ron that this country bumpkin of a girl didn’t know ANYTHING, let alone whether her dad knew anything about engines or not. I never did get a chance to explain why it took me so long to answer him and have always felt like Ron, and the guys, considered me as empty headed as I must have looked.

In my defense, “engines” sounds exactly like “injuns” don’t ya’ think? If Ron had asked me if my dad knew anything about CAR engines, that whole scenario may have ended much differently!

I still over-think things these days, but I’ve learned to give a statement before hashing out the details – something like - “My mind is processing your question. Be patient, I will answer you in just a minute. If you need an answer this very second, the answer is ‘no.’” 

Vern Larson (1960)

Good one Jenny!...I'll be thinking of you and your story whenever I lift up the hood of my car to check out my "injun".  If anybody knows Ron Vise's whereabouts, he would probably appreciate hearing Jenny's story.  Don't ever let time stand in the way of a good story or practical joke.

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Thanks, Vern. You're very kind.  I hope others will share as well.

John Michael Somero (1967)

Jenny, that is a well-written post.  I was going to respond that you sound wise beyond your years, but I guess for most of us, our years have caught up with our wisdom.  Note, I say most of us...

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Thank you John Michael Somero.  Not sure about "wise" but I feel "beyond my years" quite often.   That was a super post you wrote about Bob Sternes a few pages back (#4878).  I wanted to ask you if you knew my dad?  Fred ("Speed" or "Whitey") Johnson?  He was a flight instructor (including ground school) and taught a lot of people in the area to fly.  

Gary Wegener (Wegener) (1966)

Where is Ron Vise?   He isn't a member of the website.  Need an apb out.

Tom Barger (1965)

I have a memory that pops up every time I see Jenny johnsons name.
I was driving my dad's Olds 88 (a big Boat of a car) and I saw Jenny parked in her dad's Ranchero. She and my cousin, Dave Ferns, had been hanging out a lot and I must have had something really important to say; so I pulled in beside the ranchero. When I took off I was in a hurry, so I didn't notice that the wheels were turned and. My dad's car smashed into the side of her Ranchero. As I recall, her dad fixed that and let me off easy. Not much damage to the Olds.

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Hi Tom!  No kidding?  I don't remember that occasion, nor any repercussions from it at all.  For ALL the damage I, myself, did to my Dad's Ranchero, my Dad probably figured whatever your Dad's Olds did was minor!  

Janet Long (Levers) (1966)

Okay, so the only "pranks" I was involved in also involved the police, and I don't care to expand on them, but I thought I'd record for posterity a prank pulled before 'our time', ie., 60's decade, since all the participants are gone now. Jim Croll, who passed away earlier this year, clarified this at a Zamora School reunion a few years back- and said he didn't do it. Picture one of the OLD school buses that used to haul kids to and from the outlying locations: sorta clunky. Well, two other guys of that era happened to bring a big stick on the bus one day, and after a student had been dropped off on a country back road, stuck the stick down through a hole in the floor of the bus. When the driver started to drive away, the stick caught on the pavement below, causing quite a noise, and a drag on the bus. So the driver got out, and went to the back of the bus to investigate, at which time one of the guys involved grabbed the wheel, and started driving away. Think what would happen to some kid who pulled that today! 

John Michael Somero (1967)

Jenny,

I don't recall having known your father.  I got married in 1974 and moved away from Woodland in 1976.  In between high school and moving, I worked for Springlake Fire Dept. while learning  to fly, and then taught flying at Woodland-Watts airport when I did teach there in Woodland.  I really only remember two flight instructors; mine, Andy Anderson, and Art Allen.  So I would have been flying in Woodland between 1968, when I took my first lesson from Andy ($13/hr. for the airplane, a Cessna 150, and $6/hr for the instructor, and when I moved in 1976.

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

John Michael Somero ~ Thanks for the info. My Dad also taught out of Watts but he passed away in '68. Sounds like you did some good flying for search & rescue!

Janet ~ I can only imagine what that poor bus driver must have been thinking as he ran after the bus!  Today the government would probably hire the kid and put him to work for them in some other country.

Vern ~have fun working on your "injun" (no offense intended). 

Gary ~ good luck on that abp.

Craig  ~ Joke?  Really?  Some of us just don't fit the mold.  (Joel)

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Really awesome!  Would love to hear more about that story!!  John Michael Somero . . . please?

John Michael Somero (1967)

Well, Jenny, not that much to it, really.  When I left Woodland, I had been hired by an airline operating out of Grand Rapids, MN, Mesaba Airlines.  I was supposed to start training on a Monday, but while driving the Friday prior, I kept remembering the midwest winters, and finally called them and told them I wouldn't be there.  We then kept on trucking to Cape Cod, which was a vacation place for my wife as a child, who was raised just south of Boston.  I ended up taking a flying job with the local operator at the Hyannis airport, and one of our customers was Jackie (Onassis at the time; no longer a Kennedy).  She and her two kids, Johnny (maybe 12 years old at the time?) and Caroline, would hire us to fly them to Kennedy airport in New York whenever they were going somewhere from there.  After the first couple of times I flew them, I learned a few things.  Jackie was extremely thin; I had to help her with her seat belt one day, and wondered if it would ever get tight.  Also, she (actually they) never touched the catering we put on board for the trip, so I ended up always getting what my family liked, as I knew that's where it would end up when I got home.  I invited Johnny to come into the right seat on the first trip, and he did; however, all he did there was put his feet up on the instrument panel and read a book.  He wasn't at all communicative or interested in the flight.  After that, I never asked him again.  Upon reflecting on that, that was probably one of his earlier mistakes.  Not much else to tell; they were very quiet, and at the time basically another customer that helped put food on the table for my growing family.

John Michael Somero (1967)

Now, if you ask me about Bob Smith, that would be another story.  Or, the ATF agent that was being followed.  Or, or... I think I could write a book!

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

JMS - Great share, thanks!  You were kind to a kid going through what must have been a hard life; so high profile & fatherless.  Don't stop now - who is Bob Smith (must be a bazillion of 'em) and what was up with the ATF agent?

Joan Richter (Lucchesi) (1960)

Write the book and we will all read it! Thanks for your memories, I enjoyed them.

John Michael Somero (1967)

Ernie Conger messaged me to tell about a trip we made to the L.A. area, early in my flying days.  He mentioned a "red-headed navigator" and I thought he was talking about himself, although he didn't have red hair.  He then messaged me, that he meant my Irish Setter dog, which apparently he remembers that we took along, but I don't recall that.  What I DO recall is in this response I've copied from my original message back to him, which I thought was going on this forum...

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Good one! 

Ernest R Conger (1967)

John, 

I never had red hair and what little is up there now is flesh colored. It was your Irish Setter that had red hair and lots of it. I remember her going on at least two flights and always well behaved. 

Don't remember your Impala, but a Ford against a Chevy. Wasn't much horsepower in that Cougar. Finally got some power later when I got the '67 Vette.

Only car that stands out is the 40 something Willy's Jeep you had.

I seem to remember one flight, with an instructor, in a twin engine out of thee Flyers Club airport. You kept very busy going for your license(s) back then. Sometime I think was just going up to put in some hours. Even flying to Sacramento circling the park watching a softball game.

It's not many that get to turn a passion into a career like you've done with flying. Maybe a book might not be such a far out notion.

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Ernie - I had forgotten the airport complex was called the Flyers Club.  Spent a lot of time around the hangers there - or in the air.  Many memories!  I agree, JMS should definitely write that book.  

John Michael Somero (1967)

OK, Jenny, I'll tell about "Bob Smith".  While flying for Hyannis Aviation on Cape Cod, we got a call to pick up "Bob Smith" at Logan Airport in Boston, and to take him to Danbury, Connecticut.  I asked him if he'd prefer a single-engine plane (cheaper and slower) or the twin (the one we used for Jackie O.).  He said to bring the faster one, and I did.  The cost for the trip was several hundred dollars, even in those days, and he paid me up front out of a briefcase filled with cash.  He also gave one of the hundred dollar bills to me, as a tip (at the beginning of the trip!).  While heading to Danbury, he came up front and said he'd changed his mind, and now wanted to go to Newport, Rhode Island.  There were no cell phones in those days, so this had to be pre-planned by him, I'd imagine.  So I diverted to Newport, landed, and he got into a cab and left.  A couple hours later he came back and we flew back.  Upon landing, he gave me ANOTHER $100 bill.  Two hundred dollars in tips, while I'd probably earned about $35 for doing the flying.  In those days, we were being paid $7/hr. when the engine was running on the plane.  I also had two little babies, 15 months apart, so for me, that was huge!

Needless to say, I gave him my card with my home phone number on it, and asked him to call me any time; 24 hours a day, if he needed to go anywhere.  And he did; several times over the next couple of months, and always gave me a hundred-dollar bill at the beginning of the trip, and another at the end.  He'd often have a guitar case with him, which he'd take into the cab with him, but then didn't have it when he came back.

On some of his 2:00 a.m. journeys, I took my brother-in-law with me, just for a little extra security.  I remember one warm night in Newport, actually getting out of the plane while we waited for him, and waiting at the edge of the woods next to the airport.  I really wasn't sure what to expect.

The most memorable flight with him happened one day when he asked me to take him to New Haven, CT.  I had a load of students booked that day, but thought I could squeeze in the quick early trip to drop him off in New Haven.  So we flew there, with him again giving me the usual c-note when he got on the plane.  However, when we landed, he told me he'd be back about 2 p.m. to go home.  I had been under the impression that he just wanted to go there and be dropped off.  I explained to him that I had to leave; that I had students waiting for me to get back.  He asked me how much it would cost to come back and get him later that day, and I gave him a quote.  He then asked how much it would cost for me to wait for him, and I gave him another quote, less than half of the first quote.  He then handed me the second hundred dollar bill for that day, and said "You will wait for me, won't you?"  I called the office and had them reschedule my students.

At 2:00 p.m. he returned, and for the first time since I'd met him, he was drunk as a skunk.  He got into the back of the plane and we headed home.  It was a beautiful, clear evening, and we were flying just off the coast of Rhode Island at 5500', VFR (visually) and not talking to anyone.  He started to try to pour himself a cup of coffee, and asked me  "John, will this plane barrell roll?"  It was a 10-passenger Cessna 402, not certified for aerobatics, and I hadn't been formally trained in aerobatics, so I just told him no, that I could lose my job or my license, that parachutes were required for aerobatics, etc...  He was quiet for a while, and then a paper airplane came floating up to the front and landed on the floor between the seats, right on top of the fuel selectors.  I looked down, and it was a third hundred dollar bill folded into a paper airplane.  He then said, "If this thing will barrell roll, that's yours."  Twenty seconds later he was wiping coffee off of his shirt, and I was stuffing the bill into my pocket!  Had I been a good aerobatic pilot, he'd have not spilled any coffee, but he was drunk, I was happy, and it all turned out okay!

Then one day, the calls never came again.  About the same time, the Boston Globe was running a headline about 22 people arrested in a large drug bust in Providence, R. I.  I did not see his name, Bob Smith, on the list of those arrested, but, he still never called me again.  Oh well, it was good while it lasted!

Vern Larson (1960)

Great story John! I think it's wonderful when people have a dream and then formulate some goals and achieve their dreams. You and Bill Means should get together and have some fun sharing your flying stories with us.

OK Bill...your turn. Come on Pat...get him started!😊✈️

Jenny Johnson (Norman) (1966)

Oh - THAT Bob Smith!  LOL  Very scary.  How soon after the barrel roll did the calls stop coming?   Say - isn't the captain of the ship responsible for the cargo?  Was that about  the same time that the ATF agent came around?  Can't wait for the book!  Need to know!!!! ??

Bill Means (1961)

OK, Vern, John & I could probably fill up this forum with “war stories” of flying, but John tops my list of “paid” excursions.

What most of you don't know is the amount of endless study required on the aircraft and its systems to meet the evaluations required to continue flying.

Here are three items from my “life story” - so far 90 pages of fun and excitement BEFORE programming.

In the AF, my T41 ( Cessna 172 ) instructor was a crop duster and instructor pilot who had 20,000+ hours flying and he was very good. At the end of the program on our scheduled cross country from Casa Grande AZ to Tuscon he showed me how to do a big Barrel roll in the plane and I responded with one just as great, no coffee spilled – something I did try in my 172 with no one on board – I think a modified aileron & barrel roll would have been much easier. Later that day we were closer toward Tucson when a Tomahawk Cruise missile passed in front of us. I said: “what is it?” He said “don't even ask”. I said “Look at that”. It was being followed by 2 F-4D navy fighters, one of which broke off and circled around to fly our wing or inspect us – the I put the plane at full power, lowered the nose a little to pickup as much speed as we could as the F-4 came in. He lowered full flaps and landing gear and we flew along for a while with him on our wing and then he put on full burner, picked up the gear and flaps and headed off into the wild blue yonder... Cruise missiles were announced 2 years later. It was probably fired off a Navy missile cruiser in the Pacific off Pt. Mugu and landed at White Sands missile range in New Mexico. I thought it was a close call, but I learned much later what a close call actually IS.

In the T-37 Cessna dual control side by side trainer We planned and did the route to Las Vegas where we joined other flights We flew home through ( meaning down inside ) the Grand Canyon. We were in trail with the instructor just sweating if we made a mistake. What a beautiful way to see the inside of the Canyon. Yes, one could see a lot more in a raft, but very few got to see as much as we did. We flew many miles following the Colorado River to New Mexico and then turned south to Williams AFB and home. This is highly illegal now days and might have been then.

For my T-38 cross country, I went to Los Alamitos in Southern Cal. We received orders from the local wing commander that a Del Webs retirement village was next to the end of the departure end of the runway so as soon as practicable, turn left, get out of burner, and normal climb. I guess my instructor Capt. Tenbrink didn't like Navy guys because he had other ideas. On takeoff he had me keep it in full burner and climbed out straight up to 30,000 feet our cruising altitude. The controller had me call out altitudes as we climbed “call passing 5,000, Roger passing 5,000, call passing 10,000, passing 10,000 etc..” I called before hitting the altitudes just to impress the controllers. Needless to say the Capt. Had his tail chewed out at the base the next day – I wasn't talked to...

When in Englsnd flying the F-100, I got one trip to McClellan AFB in Sacramento to pickup an 'F' model plane – two seat instrument trainer plane - and fly it across the Atlantic back to Spain and then on up to our airport in England. I was in Wheelus, Libia at the time ( before Col Gadaffi took over ) and the 2 names were pulled out of a hat. All the F-100's had new wings installed as they found out that the planes had over 4,000 hours and the 4 wing bolts holding the wings to the airframe were broken and the center spar bolts were mostly broken. This came to the attention of the generals when a Thunderbird plane had the wings come off when he pulled up in a 6 'G' maneuver into the Bomb Burst at the finish of the airshow. Then they looked at some of the wrecks in Vietnam and found the same thing. The planes were then restricted to 4 G's until they had the new wings installed. All the 'D' models were given new wings at a aircraft plant in Southern Spain, but the 'F' models were done at McClellan in Sacramento.

For the plane ride from London to San Francisco, I packed my parachute in the huge parachute bag and my clothes in a suitcase and had my seat survival kit as a carry on – its about 18 x 18 x 8 in high with a red strap coming out of it to pull on your way down. That separates everything and the life raft opens up and everything falls down 10' so you don't have an extra 20# underneath you when you bail out and hit the ground. That got me the front row and lots of questions from fellow passengers and the crew. The plane was delayed a week so I could stay at our cabin longer enjoying Fallen Leaf Lake.

The plane was to be ready the next day so I left the lake and came down the hill. The next day the parents took me over to McClellan and I met the pilot from Spain. The Lt. Colonel had made a prearranged IFR flight plan up to Portland and back – how nice of him.

After picking the plane and doing a thorough pre-flight inspection, we took off and I gave the other pilot a complete tour of the Sierra Nevada area, including the ski areas, 1851 train route and Tahoe. I came in over Tahoe from the North and descended down toward Fallen Leaf Lake making sure I stayed more than 3 miles West of the airport. I had told my cousins that I was going to come by and say hello to them in the plane so they were expecting me. I then made 3 low level passes on Fallen Leaf Lake - it was NICE lighting the afterburner over the Stanford Alumni Association Sierra camp !! The first pass was at about 50' and I noticed everyone on their docks waving at us and we then went to the South end where Stanford had their summer camp and when over the camp I engaged the afterburner and it makes a HUGE BOOM as it lit and then we swung right over the high country ( Desolation Valley ) on the next pass I was down to 10' and as I went by the cabin, took both hands off the controls, and waved to all and this time they were up on the deck for a better view – once again lit the afterburner over Stanford and on the third pass put the plane on the water, trimmed the nose down and cruised by at about 1-3' over the water and waved like mad. That evening there was a dinner at the neighbor's house. A neighbor from down the lake who didn't know me said “Did you see the plane today??” and everyone was silent waiting for his next sentence since they knew he didn't know me. “Well I called the Sheriff and told him about the plane disturbing my peace and the sheriff said 'I have more important things than to worry about some Cessna bothering you.'” and hung up. Everyone was quiet and changed the subject quickly. Wow I got out of that one without a problem.

Thats the end of the show for today, maybe more later.

Linda Lopez (1967)

Way to go Bill, can't wait for chater two. Soaring Eagles.