View from HQ
You never know where a journey will begin.
My mother loves to tell the story about my first glow-powered model airplane. The blue-and-yellow PT-19 CL model was one of millions sold during the 1960s. It was a World War II basic trainer powered by a Cox .049, and rubber bands held the plastic model together.
Mom embellishes the story with each recounting, but at the prime age of 11 I received this “real airplane” after years of “toy airplanes” such as balsa throw gliders, rubber-powered balsa airplanes, plastic static models, and the ever-popular “plane-on-a-string” that I valiantly swung in circles until I nearly passed out.
That PT-19 was the gift for Christmas that year. Other boys were looking for a Red Rider BB gun, but I was getting a real, gas-powered airplane! In Mom’s mind, it was as dangerous as the BB gun because of the turning propeller.
It was with great anticipation that I opened the cardboard box. The soon-to-be jewel of the sky would be breaking this earthly grasp shortly, but there was one small problem: how would I start the engine? (This is where Mom really gets going as she describes the next three hours of my life.)
My dad was in the Navy stationed in San Diego, California. In those days he was in port for three months and out to wherever for nine, and Christmas was part of the nine months that year. Dad was not around to help, but with the false confidence of an 11-year-old I reasoned that he was a sailor anyway—not a pilot!
I had dreamed of my first flight many times—the stepping back to make sure the strings were tight and the sound of the screaming engine at full throttle pulling against my sister’s hands. I would give the nod to “let her go” and watch the short rollout, the rotation of the airplane, and its smooth climbout. The experience of a first flight was to be savored and enjoyed, but I still had one problem: how to start the engine.
Mom enjoys describing my many frustrated attempts to get the engine started. Scattered around were the one-pint can of glow fuel with the plastic filler hose sticking up from the spout, the battery with the wires and clip, and the instructions: “Open the needle valve 2½ turns, attach the battery to the glow plug, and flip the propeller.” It seemed simple enough according to the instructions. I flipped the propeller repeatedly, but nothing happened. Sometimes the engine would make a watery, slushy sound, but usually it was only the sound of the piston fighting against the compression of the cylinder. At one time I was reaching back into the propeller to get another flip in, and if it had started I would have had my first experience of boy versus propeller—and we know who always wins that game.
Mom always says that she was filled with many feelings that day: amazement that after more than three hours I was still trying to get the engine started, pride that I was still at it, and wonder—wondering whom she could call in this Navy town to help her son.
By luck, divine intervention, or whatever planets moved into the proper alignment, the small engine finally made sounds of combustion. A low burst of popping evolved into a higher, constant whine. In amazement, Mom and I stared at the airplane. (My sister had long since deserted us.) The engine ran for what seemed an eternity, but finally the rise and fall of the rpm signaled that the tank was empty and there was silence as the propeller sputtered to a stop. A small wisp of smoke rose from the hot cylinder head of the tiny .049.
So began my love affair with powered flight. Don’t we all remember our first love? The PT-19 didn’t fly that day because it was too late, but it did go on to have many flights. My journey with this love of flight has included flying models and full-scale aircraft. This journey has now taken me down another path. As I begin my tenure as executive director of the Academy of Model Aeronautics, I am honored to have been selected to lead this great organization.
I am humbled and excited at the staff’s dedication to serving the membership that I have seen in my first few days. I look forward to working with the executive council, the membership, and the staff to expand our ability to expose others to the thrill, joy, excitement, and love of flying.
I extend a special thanks to Joyce Hager, the interim executive director, for her dedicated service during the selection process.
It is only fitting and proper that one of the first items I plan to bring to my new office is an .049 engine! After all, it did start me on this journey, and my mom would be proud!
In the spirit of flight,
Jim Cherry Executive Director [email protected]
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
