Angel Bells for Larry Vaughn
by Norman Davis
My father and I drove down a steep, dirt entranceway to an RC flying field in 1993 for a fun-fly on a beautiful summer day. I was 15 years old, and my involvement in the hobby consisted of being in awe of everyone’s aircraft and having none of my own.
This never prevented me from enjoying the hobby. I took much pleasure in gazing at the model aircraft and watching them fly.
That flying site was also where I first saw RC helicopter pilot Larry Vaughn. I had no idea that I would see him again more than 15 years later.
I brought my camera so I could take snapshots. I captured photos of helicopters hovering, of nitro-burning, balsa-kit airplanes performing Combat with streamers and of the pilots. The helicopters were my favorite; I was enamored.
I remember when those nitro-belching mechanisms spooled up for liftoff. I took a couple of steps back, but that didn't curb my fascination.
Many days of my youth were spent looking through helicopter catalogues and wishing I had one. It was many years later before I could purchase my own helicopters, and I was very happy when the time came.
When I was flying my RC helicopters in 2010, I began thinking of those times at the flying field as a youth. I called my father one day and asked if he would like to visit the old field with me.
We drove out together, and slowly rolling by the little drive, I noticed it was much as I had expected after 17 years of change. The field had been replaced by subdivisions, and the days of airplanes touching down in the soft grass were gone.
From there, we went to the new flying field where I flew my latest rotary creation. I felt as though I was brushing something important against the azure sky. I landed and saw a parked silver car. A man and his wife had been watching me.
I began talking with the gentleman who said he used to fly helicopters too, and he mentioned that he had flown at the older flying site. He asked me if I knew anyone interested in buying some vintage helicopters. I replied, "Me!"
One of the helicopters he mentioned got my attention. It was a gas-powered Bell 47G. I thought about how it likely was one of his favorites as I followed the couple to their property, excited to see some RC helicopter history.
I could see where the helicopters were before I got out of my car. My heart sank when I saw they had been strung underneath an outdoor overhang for some time, exposed to the elements.
I noticed that the gentleman (whose name was Larry) had some type of physical handicap. I learned that he had suffered eight strokes during the last few years, and that the helicopters had been outside for eight years. However, the vintage Hirobo Bell 47G brought a gleam to my eyes.
It was definitely the helicopter that I wanted to buy, mostly for a keepsake because there was no possibility of flying a helicopter left outside to age so drastically. Every part was rusted. The layers of dusted body parts and tired plastic bits were frail, as if only a ghost pilot could fly it.
We talked for approximately two hours about the things he had been involved in, what flying was like for him, and about the Bell 47G. I could hear the honesty in his voice when he spoke of how he had left the aircraft outside to weather.
He mentioned that his health would likely deteriorate, and he didn't want to leave his wife with things she would not know what to do with. He said he wanted me to have one of the helicopters because I knew how to fly.
I could tell that he was not ready to sell the helicopter. We could not agree on a price, and they were still priceless to him. I did not want to be disrespectful about the price, or try to negotiate for something that still meant so much to him.
I left without a heli, but was content that we had a nice day and an enjoyable conversation.
During my drive home I remembered that I had taken pictures of a fun-fly when Larry would have flown. That night I pulled out my box of old pictures and looked through every envelope I had kept. I could not find them anywhere. I came to the conclusion that my memory was either wrong or the photos were lost in the shuffle of time.
Two Years Later
While visiting with my mother, I pulled out a box of family pictures she had kept throughout the years. I looked through them that evening. I opened an envelope containing photos of a 1993 fun-fly. Not only did it contain the pictures I had been looking for, but there was Larry Vaughn, as well as his Hirobo Bell 47G helicopter in all its glory.
I immediately considered sharing the pictures with Larry, but when I drove by his property, I found he had apparently moved. There was a for-sale sign in the yard.
Later that day, I received an email from another flying friend of mine that said that Larry had passed away on April 8, 2012. I did a quick search and found his obituary, confirming his passing.
I drove back by his old property the next day knowing the overhang with his old aircraft was likely still there. When I pulled into the drive, I could see his favorite helicopter was gone, with a lonely wire dangling from the overhang among the other aircraft left behind. The Bell 47G's whereabouts were unknown. Wherever it was, it was meant to be there. It almost seemed fitting that the helicopter was gone, Larry had parted, and so had his Hirobo.
I decided to take Larry a small tribute that I felt he might appreciate. I retrieved a large, wooden RC airplane propeller that I had (Larry also flew airplanes, both RC and full-scale) and drove to where he was buried.
I found Larry's resting place atop a hill in the countryside, where I laid the wooden propeller. I stood there and thought about Larry and what he had taught me about life.
Roughly two months later, I received a phone call from Larry's wife, Dianne. I had given the realtor of their former property my phone number in hopes that she would call me about the pictures of him. She drove in from the town the next day and we met. When I handed her the photos, her eyes filled with tears and love for him.
I never asked Dianne what happened to that Hirobo Bell 47G. She told me that after Larry died, her son had hoped to learn how to fly RC helicopters. I decided that the Hirobo must be in the best of all places. She also told me that her son had found and kept the wooden propeller I had left for his father.
If there was a Bell 47G waiting for Larry on the other side, I imagine it would look similar to the one he owned—beautiful in white, with rotary wings, and Larry flying it in the clouds. I'm sure I would be in awe of that one too, until I could fly it in my dreams.
Larry was someone who helped ignite sparks of interest in others, and those sparks grew into lifelong passions.
—Norman Davis [email protected]
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
