Modeling Spoken Here
Byline
Bob Hunt — Aeromodeling Editor
I am thankful to, and for, these heroes on a daily basis.
I was luckier than most modelers. I grew up in an environment where modeling was among the most important things in life.
My father was a consummate modeler, and he relished sharing the joys of this sport with any and all who would listen and learn. Because of that philosophy, he surrounded himself with model airplane builders and fliers practically 24 hours a day. Dad owned a manufacturing company, and most—if not all—of his employees were young modelers he'd helped or nurtured. He found them to be natural machinists who could think.
Among them was one modeler who would come to have a profound effect on my life. He was my "hero."
That's a little-used term these days. A hero is someone whom you look up to, try to emulate, try not to disappoint, strive to be worthy of knowing, learn from, and defend with all your might. If you've ever had a real hero, then you'll know what I'm talking about.
In reality, a hero is just someone who does whatever it is that you are interested in—very well. Maybe even incredibly well.
We've lost a few American heroes recently. Names that readily come to mind are some of my all-time favorites who are gone: Jimmy Stewart, Steve Allen, Joe DiMaggio, Leo Loudenslager, Stevie Ray Vaughan and, of course, Dale Earnhardt.
The loss of each of these icons was cause for much sadness in my life. They all meant something to me. They were all heroes.
The loss of my modeling heroes hurts even more. Throughout the years we've seen many of this hobby's heroes pass on, but their legacy continues in our daily lives because we are part of the sport that they helped to establish. The lessons we learned from them, we now pass on to another generation.
A list of modeling heroes could go on for pages and pages, and I'd still leave out many deserving people. A few of my modeling heroes who are gone but never forgotten include:
- Johnny Clemens
- Frank Garcher
- George Gaydos
- Carl Goldberg
- Ed Izzo
- Rene Mechin
- Bill Winter
Fortunately, many of my heroes are still here, and are still vital in pushing the envelope of design, construction, and performance in modeling further than I ever dreamed it could go. I am thankful to, and for, these heroes on a daily basis.
But there was one very special hero in my life, whom I think about almost constantly. I always try to do a job in a way that he would have approved of, and I always hold his accomplishments up as a beacon of what is possible.
It was his genius, antics, and personality that really made me want to become a modeler. If you were a Control Line (CL) modeler on the East Coast in the 1950s, you probably already know I'm referring to Harold "Red" Reinhardt.
Red—so named because of his flaming red hair—was a hero to us all in those days. His designs were winning almost every contest (usually with him at the controls), and his exploits at the Mirror Meet and the Plymouth Internationals were legendary.
Red was cool. He was quiet, but he had one of the quickest wits of anyone I'd ever known. And he was humble; you would never hear from him how great his latest design was or how well he was flying it.
Those things became evident quickly whenever Red would fire up one of his sand-cast case, two-bolt-backplate Foxes.
Red's style of flying was fast, low, and exciting. Each eye on the field would focus on his airplane when it was airborne. Everyone knew they were watching something very special when he performed.
I was extra fortunate, because my access to Red was more than just at the flying field; since he worked for my father, I got to see him almost every day. And yes, I made an absolute pest out of myself. (Hey, I was only six years old!)
Red would be patient with me up to a point, then he'd pick me up, invert me, and dump me into the shop garbage can! This ritual was often repeated at the flying field. I'd scream in protest, but in reality I was deliriously happy just to have the attention of my hero.
I guess that's how we are as modeling people—we can be somewhat rough, but in the end we'd do anything for our friends.
I still have several of Red's airplanes in my hangar. Two of them are some of the finest pieces of craftsmanship you'll ever see—beautifully built, and they fly like a dream. I treasure them because they came from the hand of someone who taught me so much.
That sense of pride and inspiration is something I try to pass on to the younger people who visit my shop. When I see a young person with a spark in his or her eye, I try to encourage it and help them learn. For me, that's the essence of our hobby.
There are many unsung heroes in modeling—people who volunteer at contests, who teach youngsters to fly, who donate their time and money to keep fields open, and who design and build tools and components that make modelers' lives easier. These people may not get the recognition they deserve, but they are the backbone of the sport.
So this Thanksgiving, I am thankful to, and for, these heroes on a daily basis.
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
