Issue 4, 5/2006

Communiqué
Issue # 4 Volume # 1
Low Aspect Ratio Aircraft Part 2
The Paraplane or Vacuplane was the concept of
Edward H Lanier and son (Edward M), from
Miami and Jacksonville FL, and Covington KY.
1943 the company (E M) Lanier Aircraft Corp,
Marlton NJ.
Of interest is that the elder Lanier was also
inventor of the ice cream cone, which he calms
he created while an exhibitor at the 1898
Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Although he
had a profitable business selling cone-making
machines, his real fascination was with flight, and
he is said to have built several aircraft during this
period, details of which are unknown.
Ed Marquart stated that Lanier’s vision for the
design was the ice cream cone. The elder Lanier
had long since noticed that when a paper cone
cover was dropped, it always landed, open end
up, on its tip. Along the way they uncovered a
baffling attribute. If the open end of the cone was
enclosed with a cover, it descended more rapidly
than an uncovered one.
Clutching on this
straightforward occurrence they experimented
with paper cones.
Ed Marquart and his able assistant giving the design group
another outstanding lecture; with the Lanier Vacuplane XL-4
model on the screen. Ed mentioned that this aircraft had a
landing misfortune when a young man was showing off for
his girl friend one day,
Ed Marquart is one of the Master Craftsmen of
FlaBob Airport and the designer of the marvelous
Marquart Charger. He has a great history of
building with Bill Turner a number of full scale
replica racers from the 1930s: the Brown Miss
Los Angeles, Gee Bee Model Z, Miles and
Atwood Special, Howard Pete and the
deHavilland DH 88 Comet.
Early in Mr. Ed Marquart’s carieer he helped build
the Lanier paraplane prototype. We are very
lucky to have him at FlaBob Airport and also
have him share his knowledge, photos and film of
a flying Lanier Paraplane.
Once again we
witnessed an outstanding presentation and a
great piece of aviation history.
Their assumption was that somehow the open
ended cone provided or encompassed stability. It
seemed obvious that the shape of the cone
imparted stability. Somehow it was able to also
produce lift. But they had no explanation how the
lift was produced or how to use this idea in an
aircraft.
Other literature states that a vaudevillian's trick
hat also played into their vision. This is where
Vaudeville Theater saga comes into the act; per
say. At a show they witnessed a performer who
sailed his hat out over the audience. I guess he
did not want to buy lots of hats so he figured out
a trick to have it return to his hand as if attached
to a rubber cord. The Lanier’s asked the
performer how the hat trick worked. He stated
that the brim had to be turned up and the hat
sailed bottom up to make it work. That opened
the doors to grand vacuum theory for the
Lanier’s. They believed that there was some
unknown aerodynamic foundation at work. The
open end of the hat's crown was creating lift like
the open end of a paper cone when dropped.
They did not seem to care how it worked at this
time; just that it achieved lift. This guided the
support for the Lanier’s "vacu-cell" in a research
craft called the XL-1.
assume with some cash for a contract study) in
building a new research aircraft which was
named XL-3. What they built and tested was an
aircraft with no wing. It was merely a vacu-cell
which was to provide all the lift and stability.
They built the XL-1 aircraft in Miami around 1928.
It looked like it had a large shallow box atop the
fuselage. The XL-1 flew and the Lanier's claimed
that it was extra stable and proficient at shorter
takeoffs and landings than it would have been
without the new “vacu-cell” device.
The Lanier's built a second aircraft named the
XL-2 with an 85 hp engine. This was built at
Lunken Airport in Cincinnati in 1930. It looked a
lot like to the XL-1. It had a further developed 98
sq. ft. “ vacu-cell” mounted atop.
The mid-wing was left uncovered at the root to
allow air to flow up through it to act against the
cone shaped bottom surface of the “vacu-cell”
and transmit a means of stability. A 20 mph
forward speed at touch down was calmed. It was
also spin and stall proof. But, there remained
skeptics who would not accept the “vacu-cell”
ideas.
Ed Marquart explaining the XL-3 and what appears to be
a canard surface just aft of the engine cowl. The surfaces
were actually the airplane's ailerons they where totally
within the prop wash and were much too sensitive.
It seems at this point they started calling it the
“Vacuplane” and it became a school undertaking
with student effort.
Six patents were secured by E.H. Lanier from
1930 to 1933 for airplane designs that were
intended to be exceptionally stable. A feature of
five of these was a flow induced “vacuum
chamber” which they thought provided superior
stability and increased lift compared to typical
wing designs. Initially this chamber was in the
fuselage, but later designs placed it in the wing
by replacing a section of the upper skin of the
wing with a series of angled slats. {Vacuplane
The Lanier’s needed to prove the “vacu-cell” idea
with convincing research. So, in 1931 Ed H.
Lanier went to University of Miami for help (I
series of experiments to explore Lanier's ideas on
low-speed flight. Relative US patents from 1930-33:
#1,750,529, #1,779,005, #1,803,805, #1,813,627,
#1,866,214, and #1,913,809.}
The XL-3 Vacuplane had an 85 hp LeBlond
engine, single place, fully enclosed cabin with a
airfoil shaped pylon extending above the fuselage
to the “vacu-cell”. The “vacu-cell” had a chord of
eleven feet, two inches and a span of eight feet
and nine inches. The “vacu-cell” also had a
straight leading edge but was tapered at the rear.
The bottom surface tapered upward toward the
tips generating a forceful dihedral result. It was
believed, this lower surface dihedral gave the
vacu-cell its natural stability. So it became a very
important part of their lift stability system. The
shape of the “vacu-cell” looked as if to follow a
Durand #13 airfoil. The leading edge was normal
back to about foot or so with a upper cover. The
remaining area was opened; this can be seen in
the above photo of the XL-2 number 816Y.
Vacu-Cell had a total of 84 sq ft. lifting surface,
so that with the XL-3's gross weight of 931
pounds, the "wing" loading was just over 11
pounds per square foot.
This brings us to part two of the newsletter on the
subject of low aspect ratio wings. Aspect ratio of
the vacu-cell was .82 to 1. This most likely
produced the lift and flight characteristics of the
Vacuplane then any other concept. {As you
might recall; from the last newsletter on Low
Aspect Ratio Design.} In 1932 NACA researcher
Charles H. Zimmerman authored NACA Report
No. 431 which stated: "there is a range of aspect
ratios extending approximately from 0.75 to 1.50
wherein end flow causes a marked delay in the
breakdown of the longitudinal flow as the angle of
attack of an airfoil is increased " and " it is
possible within this range to obtain maximum lift
coefficients considerably higher than can be
obtained for an airfoil of this same section (Clark
Y) having an aspect ratio of six." This was similar
to the Arup flying wing, which had a plan form
similar to the heel of a shoe. Also noted was the
fact that an ultra low aspect ratio wing had to
have a curved trailing edge to produce the effects
noted in Report No. 431. The Lanier vacu-cell
was very similar to the Arup wing, with a tapered
trailing edge approximating the curved ideal
shape. Zimmerman's other NACA Technical Note
No. 539 stated: "lncreasing the dihedral of airfoils
of low aspect ratio results in large decreases in
drag at values of lift corresponding to climbing
and slow cruising speeds."
Others have thought that the cavity or Lanier
vacu-cell could have been generating vortex lift
assumed by Witold Kasper. According to Kasper,
at high angles of attack a sort of horizontal
tornado could be induced on the top surface of a
specially designed wing which would generate
large amounts of lift. He called the phenomenon
"vortex lift"
The idea was to adopt the vacuum principle for
inherent stability, especially at stalling conditions.
Low speed was achieved by placing an upwardlyopen concave cell ("vacuum cell") in the center
section of the aircraft, most often blending into
the fuselage. Slots were also involved. Hence
reduced air pressure evolved in the cell which, of
course, had a positive influence on the lift. Most
Vacuplanes involved the University of Miami
aeronautics department and its director, Prof F.
H. Given, to some degree, but, details are
sketchy. The Vacuplane documentation is chaos,
and likely no one will ever sort out all the facts.
The University did a wind tunnel tested a 1/12
size model
in October of 1933. Ralph R.
Graichen supervised and compared the vacu-cell
with a Clark Y airfoil. The Clark Y airfoil stalled
at 14 degrees; the vacu-cell hung on up to 34
degrees AOA. The vacu-cell appeared to show
no predisposition to spin out of the stall with a
aspect ratio of less then or equal to 1.5. It has an
affinity to be stable through the usable angles of
attack and center of pressure did not move more
than 2% throughout this range. This did not
provide all the answers the Lanier’s wanted, but,
they now knew how much induced drag was
produced.
What did this all prove at the time? That depends
on whom you ask, but one thing is for sure, the
XL-3 Vacuplane did fly. From what has been
written it flew quite well. It flew at 90 mph. Take
off was about 75 feet, maintained altitude at 25
mph, and descend "like a parachute" to touch
down and stopped in 33 feet.
The succession of the XL-4 helped solve some of
the XL-3 problems which came to light during
flight testing. The University of Miami's modified
the XL-3. The vacu-cell was widened 2.5 feet on
each side so traditional edge ailerons could be
added. The fuselage aileron canards where
removed. But, disc shaped endplates 3 feet in
diameter were added to the tips. It now became
the XL-4, the Vacuplane with better roll control
and a top speed of 110mph. The outstanding
STOL distinctiveness remained. Odd thing
happened after all the testing, the Lanier’s
discarded the XL-3, XL-4 design. Maybe they felt
it was time to move from a pure research aircraft
to a more practical research design or even test
their theories on a different shape aircraft. Their
next Vacuplane was the XL-5, a smaller, lighter
research plane powered by a 2-cylinder, 36 hp
Aeronca engine. The vacu-cell became the
fuselage with single pilot sitting right in the middle
Like most civilian designs progress slowed until
close to the end of World War II. The Lanier
Aircraft Corporation was established at Bristol,
PA in 1943. A new model was designed and
identified as the Model 120. The name also
seemed to change to Paraplane from Vacuplane.
One wall of the shop was painted white and a full
size side view of the aircraft was drawn right on
that wall.
of the 7 foot wide tube. It became a lifting body
type shape with Vacu-cell narrowing all the way
to the standard tail surfaces. There where short
wings extended out from the vacu-cell to mount
the ailerons. The wings could be folded
downward, I guess this made it a "tow able"
aircraft. The span was 14 feet 4 inch when fully
extended. Gross weight 574 pounds, empty
weight was 350 pounds. Payload load of 224
pounds with a range of 250 mph. Take-off runs
where in the area of 90 feet. The entire airframe
was built up out of welded steel tubing with fabric
covering. A number of pilots found it stable
enough not to slip or dive in a stall. In landing it
had a tendency to favor a steep descent with
control maintained at minimum forward speed.
Top speed was over 95 mph with landings
happening at 30mph, with a 700 fpm rate of
climb.
Around 1946 Ed Marquart was working for local
aircraft company and a friend told him about an
innovative new light plane being built. Ed went to
go see the project. He encountered Edward
Lanier (the son) and they spoke about the Lanier
Paraplane and how it came about. Ed liked what
he saw and provided his skills on an after hours
and Saturday morning basis. His was paid with
shares of stock in the company. Ed stated he
still has those certificate shares which states
1100 shares. Ed figures they must be worth at
least negative 1 penny by now.
He made a
great point about sometimes you work to try to
accomplish something further than financial
benefit. Ed saw this as an opportunity to
accomplish or be in on the ground floor of
something original, revolutionary and enjoyable.
Ed’s recollection was that the tubular fuselage
was well along by the time he came on the
location and was sitting in a simple jig. One of the
uncharacteristic elements was the drawings.
When he and other assistants needed to cut a
new piece of tubing to fit into the structure. They
simply walked over to the wall took a dimension
off the full size drawing. They then began
producing parts right of the wall. There were
some drawings of smaller components on paper,
but most of the airplane came right off the wall.
The tubular structure of the Model 120 Paraplane
was largely fabric covered, with aluminum tail
surfaces, vacu-jet vanes and ducts from the slots
to the wing cavities. Ed Marquart says that clips
were placed around the tubing and the sheet
metal was riveted to the clips. The landing gear
oleo-rubber shocks where built to withstand the
parachute-like landings the Paraplane was
capable of making.
This photo of the Paraplane 120 with 0-145 Lycoming was
taken by Ed Marquart when he worked for Lanier.
The ice cream cone business must have been
exceedingly first-rate because the Lanier’s kept
building more research aircraft. They did another
rabbit trick and turned the XL-5 into the XL-6. The
wing span was augmented to 17.5 feet. This
caused the top speed to go up to 110 mph, just
like the XL-3 and XL-4 wing increase caused it to
go up in speed. The XL-6 weight went up to 621
pounds with the increase in span.
Ed Marquart shows us a photo of the twin rudders
Ed Marquart shows the single tail. Ed says look close and
you see a larger tail then the paint job.
Ed remembers the cabin was a fully enclosed
design but was narrow so two seats were
staggered to allow shoulders to overlap. Only the
pilot's left seat had controls. As originally
conceived and built, the Model 120 Paraplane
was powered by a little 65 hp Lycoming 0-145
and had twin rudders. This was changed to a
single vertical fin and rudder for better control at
slow flight inside the props slip stream.
Ed Marquart, shows double tail. Para plane 120, 65 hp
Lycoming, February 1949, before test flight. Marlton, NJ
airport, Al Ryan standing next to aircraft. Ed stated the tail
was changed to a single rudder almost after the first flight.
The wingspan was 20 fl. 5 in., the length was 22
fl. and the height was 6 fl. 4 in. Empty weight was
870 pounds, which was a lot more than the 600
pounds that had been originally projected. The
gross was 1,325 pounds. The Paraplane was
painted a medium blue all over, with red on the
leading edges of the wings and tail surfaces. A
gray stripe with a yellow border ran down the
fuselage, with the legend "Every field an airport"
painted in it in blue. The N-number, 9060H, and
other markings were in white. The main gear leg
fairings were unpainted aluminum.
The 120 wing operated on the same belief with
new devices to control the lift force in the vacucell. The test pilot was former Navy fighter pilot
Leo J. Riley. The wings still had cavities on the
top surface of the wings which extended towards
inboard section almost to the tips. The wing was
divided into three sections with hinged tops
called vanes.
Ed brought a drawing of how the special lift
devices operated. The pilot opened and closed
these doors to alter the quantity of lift created.
New to the 120 was a full span slot that took air
from the bottom surface of the wing just behind
the leading edge. The air was forced up (the
scoop) within a venturi formed channel and
exhausted a concentrated velocity of air (the
vacu-jet) into the front of each of the cavities (the
vacu-cell) on the top side of the wing. The idea
was to force feed the cavity with high velocity air
to create more lift when it was needed.
The mouth of the slot on each wing also had a
door, or vane, which could be opened and closed
from the cockpit. In practice, the vanes were
opened just slightly for takeoff, were closed
completely for cruise flight and were opened fully
for landing. At the full open landing position, so
much lift was produced that a gliding descent of
40 degrees was possible without an increase in
speed, according to the younger Lanier. "It lands
something like a parachute," he was quoted as
saying
The following quotes are from pamphlet for the
Paraplane which Leo J, Riley helped write:
"The Paraplane takeoff
and landing distance
required is so short
that airports are not a
necessity for its safe
operation.
In
this
respect, it approaches
the safety minimums required for rotary wing
aircraft. Its speed, unlike that of rotary wing
airplanes, is normal per horsepower. "The Vacujet system greatly contributes to its safe, short
takeoff, high angle of climb, and safe, steep
descent landing. The Para- plane's rate of climb
is very much higher than comparable
conventional aircraft.”
"The Paraplane stability and control has been
excellent, and one of the most outstanding
characteristics is its lateral stability in all attitudes
of flight. Lateral control exists with power off,
even after rudder control has diminished at socalled stalling speeds. There is no tendency
toward a Dutch roll…”
“There is a very short roll after landing. "The
extreme short takeoff and landing with relatively
steep angles of climb and descent allows the
Paraplane to get out of and into a field over high
obstacles. "These test airplanes have been very
much overweight and used as flying test beds for
the Vacu-jet devices and other improvements to
be incorporated in production design Paraplanes
for FAA Certification. Therefore, it is highly
gratifying to me to realize that the outstanding
performance shown by these experimental
Paraplanes should be greatly increased in the
highly streamlined, proper weight, production
engineered versions to follow."
All the above statements by Riley would
only stand as sales pitch if it was not for
Ed Marquart’s color film he had taken
showing some impressive take offs and
landings which he shared with the
Design Group. Thanks Ed, a piece of
history many of us would not have ever
seen.
Paraplane landing over an hanger and touching down
less then 200 feet later. From Ed’s Marquart’s film
Flying Magazine and the Philadelphia Inquirer
newspaper wrote articles about the Paraplane
landing at Municipal Stadium in Philadelphia. Ed
Marquart was there that day also. A row of
vehicles and a dump truck are shown in the
background of the photos. Riley made
remarkably short takeoffs
and landings for the press.
There are photos and story in
Flying Magazine on page 25
of the October 1950 issue.
The
landings
that
the
Paraplane
accomplished
thoroughly demonstrated its
character.
The
aircraft
descended slowly but surely
with a very sharp angle.
Ed stated that the aircraft
needed more horsepower.
The 65 hp Paraplane, was
tail heavy. The 65 hp
Lycoming was weak and was replaced with a 90
hp Continental C-90. It was mounted about two
feet farther forward. Ed also stated that this
caused the top airspeed to go about 5 mph
slower. The modified aircraft was christened the
Paraplane II. It was also tested by a University
Aeronautical Department at Princeton University.
Ed Lanier lift top; L.J. Riley top right; Ed took this photo of
photographers taking photos for the magazine.
The follow reports where produced:
1.
FLIGHT TEST ANALYSIS OF
PERFORMANCE OF THE PARAPLANE
EQUIPPED WITH VAC.U-JET AND VACUCELL DEVICES # 198
2.
FLIGHT TESTS OF LANIER PARAPLANE # 189
3.
STABILITY, CONTROL, AND
PERFORMANCE OF THE PARAPLANE
WITH WIND TUNNEL EVALUATION OF
THE VACU-JET DEVICES #158
The reports are good reading if you get a chance.
Some statements from the reports on the
Paraplane follow:
The results of this study indicate that the
performance of the Paraplane was about
average for a plane of its class. The power off,
maximum lift coefficients ran along normal
magnitudes, (CL = 1.54). It was found that the
greatest lift coefficient in the clean configuration
was obtained by the application of flaps alone, (
CL = 0.43). with the additional application of
doors and scoops, an additional increment, (CL =
0.04) was obtained, The doors and scoops alone,
in comparison to the clean configuration gave
only a small increment increase, (CL=0.15) The
effect of power on maximum lift coefficient was
large in all configurations in comparison to power
off lift coefficients. This effect is attributed to the
characteristic of this airplane, with low aspect
ratio to attain high angles of attack at stall giving
it a larger vertical thrust component. As was
found in the power-off case, the greatest
contributing factor to maximum lift was the
application of flaps. (CL=2.48). Power effects
increased the maximum lift coefficient in the
clean configuration, giving ( CL = 0.36) and with
flap down gave, (CL =0.51), little additional effect
was realized by the addition of the test devices.
It is the author’s opinion that the Vacu-jet device
compares favorably with normal. slot-type high lift
devices with the additional advantage that it is
controllable in flight, However it is felt that the
extended lip of the scoop, in the down position of
the Vacu-jet, creates enough additional drag over
conventional type wing slots, to make the use of
the Vacu-jet of no consequential improvement
over conventional wing slots.
Ed Lanier furthermore purposed on paper a four
seat aircraft. Which Marquart stated was always
nice to do. Along with what that was the idea I
will call the STUCKY air stations. Ed Lanier
called them ParaPorts, a tiny airport on 15 acres
or so with a 400 ft. runway that only a Paraplane
could safely use (or a helicopter). They would
have a motel, restaurant, hangars, maintenance
facility.
They would also have services for cars. Lanier's
idea was to string Paraports along the entire
Interstate Highway system at relatively short
intervals so that Paraplane travelers would never
be far from food, fuel, service, a place to spend
the night (and money) or avoid bad weather.
Since we do not see any of these flying
STUCKY’s we know they came to pass. To bad
they seem like a reasonable idea.
Another University; Murdoch
University also wrote a paper on the
Paraplane called:
IMPLEMENTING LANIER’S PATENTS FOR
STABLE, SAFE AND ECONOMICAL ULTRASHORTWING VACU-AND PARA-PLANES
They reviewed the patents and other literature to
come to their conclusion based on mathematical
modeling. Here are some of their statements:
Six patents were secured by E. H. Lanier from
1930 to 1933 for aeroplane designs that were
intended to be exceptionally stable. A feature of
five of these was a flow-induced “vacuum
chamber” that it was thought provided superior
stability and increased lift compared to typical
wing designs. Initially this chamber was in the
fuselage, but later designs placed it in the wing
by replacing a section of the upper skin of the
wing with a series of angled slats. We
investigated this wing design using inviscid
aerodynamic theory and viscous numerical
simulations and found no evidence to support the
claims made.
Rather we suggest that any
improvement in lift and/or stability seen in the few
prototypes that were built was due to thicker
airfoils than was typical at the time.
Do we have a deal for you; hold on; low cost; magic lift;
easy sign up; the aircraft of your dreams; don’t wait; 60
years of design study; and a complete set of steak knifes :)
An Interview With Ed Marquart
(The following was graciously lifted from The
Wing Nut, newsletter of EAA Chapter 1, dated
1 June 2001. No way could I do a better
report.)
In January, it was my privilege to interview
Flabob’s Pioneers of Aviation for our 48th Annual
Open House and Fly-In. Before this, I did not
realize the rich history that is Flabob Airport.
Over the next five months, in alphabetical order, I
will be reprinting those interviews, so that all of us
at EAA Chapter One may know who we are and
the stock from which we came.
Poet George Herbert once said, “When a friend
asks, there is no tomorrow.” No truer words could
be said of Ed Marquart. He is known as the man
whose door is always open. It is safe to say that
there is not a homebuilder at Flabob Airport who
has not benefited from Ed’s kindness and
expertise. As an aviation pioneer of Flabob
Airport, Ed Marquart began designing his first
experimental in 1955. He started with a test
model, the MA3 Marquart Maverick. As a
“personalized
airplane,”
it
was
strictly
experimental. Ed used it to explore his design
ideas.
He opened his shop at Flabob Airport on August
1,1958. At that time, he moved on to designing
the model MA4, a single-place, biplane named
the Marquart Lancer. After the prototype was
built, Ed worked on fuselages for other people.
“The prints are out there for this plane, but I didn’t
push their sale,” Ed commented.
In June of 1955, Ed joined EAA Chapter One.
Immediately, he was drafted as Vice President
and served for approximately 3½ years. He was
then elected and served two and half years as
President of the Chapter.
In 1966 through 1967, Ed pulled out plans of the
MA5, first realized in his garage before he moved
to Flabob Airport. The MA5 Marquart Charger
was finished in 1971. That year, Ed flew it to
Oshkosh for AirVenture. The Marquart Charger
made it to Fly-In’s around the western United
States. He again flew the Charger back to
Oshkosh in 1973. Ed explained, “There are about
450 sets of prints out there today and 85 MA5’s
in the air, with 100 still being built.”
Ed’s expertise has been sought on many different
planes. In the middle 60’s, Ed was contracted to
build a replica of a 1912 Curtis Pusher, which
now sits in the Planes of Fame Museum in
Chino, California. He built a set of clipped wings
for the Taylorcraft that acrobatics pilot Margaret
Richie flew. Clayton Stephens worked on the
fuselage. After flying that Taylorcraft, Margaret
moved over to the Stephens Akro when it was
completed. Ed then designed another set of
clipped wings for Art Scholl, who was putting cut
down Taylorcraft wings on his J-3 Piper Cub for
aerobatics work.
“I was always in the middle of the Fly-In’s and
found them very enjoy-able” Ed states. One man
he knew on the field was Ed Allenbaugh, a good
friend of Flavio’s. “He had helped a lot with racing
airplanes years ago. Allenbaugh built a number
of them,” Ed recalls. “One called the Californian
and another called the Allenbaugh Grey Ghost.”
Ed enjoyed Mr. Allenbaugh’s opinions, because
he had done so much in the field of racing. At
that time Mr. Allenbaugh was building a
“roadable” airplane. He wanted a plane in which
he could fold the wings and drive it home.
Unfortunately, Mr. Allenbaugh passed away
before completing the project.
In the 1970’s, Ed got into building replica-racing
planes for Bill Turner and his company Repeat
Aircraft. He built a Brown Racer B-2 for Bill,
called the Miss Los Angeles. Three years later,
Ed again worked for Bill Turner on the Gee-Bee
Model Z. Leon Atwood, one of the original
designers of the Miles and Atwood Special, found
out Repeat Aircraft was building replicas and
asked if they would build a replica of the Special.
Bill contracted with Ed Marquart for the job. Ed
also had opportunity to work on the wing lay-outs,
the fuselage layouts and the tooling on the
DeHaviland Comet sponsored by Tom Wathen.
This talented Pioneer of Aviation also worked on
the layouts for the fuselage, tapered wing
configuration, and the tail feathers of Bill Turner’s
Turner (Roscoe)/Laird Racer. Ed got them
started on that project and then moved on to
bigger and better things.
“My wife, Shirley, backed me up on a number of
things, assisted in restoring a number of aircraft
many years ago. She’s gone along with my
vocation and avocation.” Ed states.
Ed has had the privilege of meeting many an
aviation great, including Matty Laird of
Turner/Laird fame; Tony LeVier, a great race and
test pilot for Lockheed Aircraft; and renowned
aviators Claude Flagg, Frank Tallman and Paul
Mantz.
Thank you, Ed, for your contribution to Sport
Aviation, Flabob Airport and EAA Chapter One.
-
D. K. Heller
The picture Show
At our forth meeting we viewed one of the
timeless series of video programs by brilliant
German
aeronautical
engineer
Dr.
Alexander Lippisch dealing with wind
tunnels. To fly, man first had to understand
the flow of air over aircraft surfaces. This meant
that he had to build instrumented laboratories in
which wings, fuselages, and control surfaces
could be tested under controlled conditions. Thus
it is not surprising that the first wind tunnel was
built a full 30 years before the Wrights' success at
Kitty Hawk.
The utility of the wind tunnel is obvious today, but
it was not the first aerodynamic test device. Early
experimenters realized that they needed a
machine to replace nature's capricious winds with
a steady, controllable flow of air. They
recognized, as Leonardo da Vinci and Isaac
Newton had before them, that they could either
move their test model through the air at the
required velocity or they could blow the air past a
stationary model. Both approaches were
employed in the early days of aeronautics.
The simplest and cheapest contrivance for
moving models at high speeds was the whirling
arm-a sort of aeronautical centrifuge. Benjamin
Robins
(1707-1751),
a
brilliant
English
mathematician, was the first to employ a whirling
arm. His first machine had an arm 4 feet long.
Spun by falling weight acting on a pulley and
spindle arrangement, the arm tip reached
velocities of only a few feet per second.
Frank H. Wenham (1824-1908), a Council
Member of the Aeronautical Society of Great
Britain, is generally credited with designing and
operating the first wind tunnel in 1871. Wenham
had tried a whirling arm, but his unhappy
experiences impelled him to urge the Council to
raise funds to build a wind tunnel. In Wenham's
words, it "had a trunk 12 feet long and 18 inches
square, to direct the current horizontally, and in
parallel course.'' A fan-blower upstream of the
model, driven by a steam engine, propelled air
down the tube to the model.
With the advent of the wind tunnel,
aerodynamicists finally began to understand the
factors that controlled lift and drag, but they were
still nagged by the question of model scale. Can
the experimental results obtained with a onetenth scale model be applied to the real, full-sized
aircraft? Almost all wind tunnel tests were and
still are performed with scale models because
wind tunnels capable of handling full-sized
aircraft are simply too expensive.
In a classic set of experiments, Osborne
Reynolds (1842-1912) of the University of
Manchester demonstrated that the airflow pattern
over a scale model would be the same for the
full-scale vehicle if a certain flow parameter were
the same in both cases. This factor, now known
as the Reynolds number, is a basic parameter in
the description of all fluid-flow situations,
including the shapes of flow patterns, the ease of
heat transfer, and the onset of turbulence.
Wilbur (1867-1912) and Orville (1871-1948)
Wright, operating from the unlikely background of
bicycle manufacturers, built their first flying
machine in August 1899. It was a simple, 5-foot
span, unmanned biplane kite rigged so that it
could be maneuvered by twisting or warping the
wings (somewhat like birds do for control). Kite
tests led to the construction of their first
unpowered manned glider in 1900. Twelve test
flights with glider No. 1 proved that their pitch and
roll controls worked. The glider, however, was
generating far less lift and more drag than they
expected.
To find out why their first glider did not perform as
predicted, the Wrights set up a remarkably simple
experiment using natural winds to compare the
relative lifting forces of flat and cambered
surfaces. In effect, they built an aerodynamic
balance that showed unequivocally which of two
test airfoils developed more lift. This "wind tunnel
without walls'' confirmed the Wrights' growing
belief that the accepted aerodynamic design
tables they were using were seriously in error.
Sobered by these revelations, the Wrights
increased the wing area of glider No. 2 to 290
square feet. The initial trial flights at Kitty Hawk
disappointed them still further. The highly
cambered wings created pitching movements
that could not be controlled. After several near
disasters, airfoil curvature was reduced, and the
craft behaved much better. The Wrights returned
to Dayton with mixed feelings. Glider No. 2 had
flown, but, from the standpoint of their
expectations, the 1901 Kitty Hawk tests were a
disaster. Their morale sagged. "Having set out
with absolute faith in the scientific data, we were
driven to doubt one thing after another, till finally
after two years of experimentation, we cast it all
aside, and decided to rely entirely upon our own
investigations.”
They
began
with
a
comprehensive series of experiments with a wide
variety of airfoils. In the short span of 3 months
these tests produced the basic data needed for
building their 1902 glider and the powered aircraft
to follow. During this short span of time, the
Wrights leapfrogged other aerodynamicists the
world over.
The heart of any successful wind tunnel is its
balance system-the apparatus that measures the
aerodynamic forces acting on the model. The
Wrights built two balances-one for lift and a
second for drag. The balances never measured
actual forces; they simply compared test airfoils
with reference airfoils or the forces on calibrated
flat surfaces. This approach allowed the Wrights
to rapidly pit one airfoil against another and
select the best from many configurations.
The first post-Wright wind tunnel laboratory
dedicated to aeronautical research was built in
America, despite the lack of aeronautical interest
in this country. Almost coincident with the
Wrights' small developmental wind tunnel, Albert
Zahm, a professor at Catholic University in
Washington, D.C., began operating a wind tunnel
with the unheard of test section dimensions of 6 x
6 feet. Who sponsored this tunnel? Not the U. S.
government and not Catholic University, but a
wealthy industrialist, Hugo Mattullath, who saw a
commercial future in aviation far beyond the frail,
almost ridiculous craft then straining to stay aloft
for a few moments.
In France, Gustave Eiffel, of Tower fame, also
built a private aerodynamics laboratory with
personal monies. Eiffel's interest in aerodynamics
went back to the turn of the century, when he had
dropped bodies of various shapes from his Tower
to test air resistance. His 1909 wind tunnel on the
Champ de Mars was 1.5 meters in diameter and
of the open-jet type; that is. the return airflow was
not channeled by special walls Air jetting from a
special nozzle was directed into the test section
at speeds up to 20 meters per second and was
routed back to the nozzle by the walls of the
building rather than a separate return passage.
Eiffel ran over 4000 tests in this rather primitive
facility be fore he moved on to a larger, secondgeneration tunnel with higher air speeds.
To learn more about wind tunnels I have a Book
called: WIND TUNNELS OF NASA by Donald D.
Baals and William R. Corliss, SP-440. This book
was in print by NASA but not any longer. They
have it posted on a web site to read. If you
would like a free copy (OK not free as a tax payer
you paid for it) I can send you a PDF copy in the
email. It is a large file of about 7.5 Megs.
Contact my email: [email protected] and I will
send it out to you. All the above was taken from
the book, it is 137 pages long and worth reading
very; informative and a good read.
What this is and what it is not!
It is important to remember that this newsletter is
merely a conduit for information passed among
members sharing their experiences. Its
established
purpose
is
fellowship
and
encouragement. It is NOT the intent to give
authoritative advice on aircraft construction
or design. The Editor and the contributing
writers disclaim any liability for accuracy or
suitability of information that is shared. You can
assume that all or some of the information in
each issue is not correct for aircraft design.
This is simply a collection of notes which where
taken at the Design Group meeting and placed
with other items into a newsletter format. Lots of
items will come from the meeting as best as one
can interpret what is stated. Many items will
come from other sources such as books and
internet files (Grabbing from any source to make
it useful and a lot will come from the internet to
expand what was talked about at the meeting. I
will take it where I can get it).
Speak out if you were wrongly quoted or
something misinterpreted, no harm was implied,
only lack of knowledge in understanding and
interpreting what was said. If others would like to
contribute articles, stories and materials feel free.
This newsletter is also located at this Web Site
for download or viewing. This Web Site is
hosted by EAA Chapter One and I would like to
thank them for this services.
http://www.eaach1.org/design.html
What have we learned in the last two
newsletters?
You got people tossing heals off shoes and ice
cream cones for aircraft design. Watch out for
individuals hurling bowling balls around the
airport.
Robert Jordan
A LITTLE HELP NEEDED
I would like to have better scans of the FLYING
Magazine Oct, 1950 article and the Private Pilot
Magazine January 1967 article if someone has
them. I will use them on the online and future
prints. THANKS
Contact my email:
[email protected]
Coming Issues
The Lockheed Little Dipper
Landing Gear Design All Wrong
Popular Science (April 1935)
Popular Mechanics (1932)
p. 917
Named by its designer, a research
professor at the University of Miami, the
"vacuplane", an airplane of unusual
appearance has been successfully flown.
Two types thus far have been developed,
but both have the distinguishing features
of extremely short span and a hollow
airfoil with baffle fins replacing the usual
top covering. The wing in horizontal
section has a shape somewhat like that
of a bird in flight, but is fitted at the end
with disks to reduce the wing-tip vortex
and to add to lateral control. The cabin of
the ship is highly streamlined with
resulting low resistance. Lateral balance
in the earlier tests was obtained through
"flipper" controls placed in the propeller
slipstream, but the later type was
equipped with ailerons. The hollow
character of the wing, with its open and
baffled top, is said to add greatly to the
lifting power of the airfoil vacuum and
allow the plane to take off and land at
low speeds. Performance in the air was
considered good enough to warrant the
statement by the pilot that the plane
virtually flew itself.
A modified and improved design of his "vacuplane",
differing markedly from its predecessors (P. S. M.,
Jan. '32), was recently demonstrated by its inventor,
E. H. Lanier, at Miami, FL. This odd craft is provided
with suction cells on its upper surface, which are
said to increase the lift and reduce the required wing
area. The new model weighs 360 pounds, is only 16
feet long, and is reported to have a speed of 96
mph. The plane is shown above with its inventor, at
left, comparing notes with his pilot on the machine's
performance.
Popular Science (January 1932)
"Short Wing Vacuplane Gets Lifting Power
From Vacuum Cells"
The "Vacuplane", a strange new type of airplane, has
made its appearance at the University of Miami, Florida. Its
abbreviated wing, open at the top, is lined with hollow
chambers or "suction cells". These are said to make its
lifting power equal to a conventional plane of greater
wingspan. Several planes of this type have been
constructed under the direction of Prof. Fred H. Givens,
head of the university's aviation department, following in
general the original design of E. H. Lanier, Cincinnati
inventor. More than 15 successful flights have been made.
In the latest model, illustrated here, round "tip-loss boards"
at the ends of the wing increase the lifting force by
preventing the formation of air vortexes. Ailerons that
control the plane's banking are mounted on the fuselage
behind the propeller.
AIRPLANE
Manufacturer: Lanier Aircraft Corporation
Type: Paraplane-Commuter 110, single place (STOL)
Serial No. PL-8B
Span: 20 ft. 7 in.
Length: 21 ft.
Fixed type landing gear (Special design of low drag and maintenance)
Gross wgt: (Normal) 1280 lbs. (Ferry) 1400 lbs
Useful load: 500 lbs
Fuel: (Normal) 24 gals. (Ferry) Built in, 20 gals. All tanks located in wings.
Oil: 8 qts.
Engine: Lycoming O-320 150 hp.
Wing area: 111 sq. ft.
Propeller: McCauley, metal fixed pitch
Airplane equipped with flaps, flaperons and Vacu-jet (Natural BLC)
PERFORMANCE
Top speed: 165 mph.
Cruise speed: 151 mph.
Range: 625 mi. plus 45 min. fuel reserve
Miles per gal.: 17
Takeoff speed: Under 30 mph. Landing speed: Under 30 mph.
Takeoff distance at normal gross wgt.: 20 yds.
Landing distance at normal gross wgt.: 20 yds.
Rate of climb: 1500 ft. per min. plus
Takeoff over 50 ft. obstacle: 55 yds.
Slow flight with good control: 25 mph.
Slow flight with power without loss of altitude: 15 mph.
Ceiling: 23,000 ft. (compensated carburetor)
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cover story
Protracted Project
Allen Potts’ 17-year Marquart Charger challenge
Jack Cox
A
and egress.
Although the Wag-ABond’s paint was still curing,
Allen was already committed
to a new project: a Marquart
Charger. He had purchased
the plans from Ed Marquart,
had bought the metal wing
fittings and flying wires from
Ken Brock Manufacturing,
and had even visited Jim
Smith and Remo Galeazzi in
California to learn as much
as he could about their two
Oshkosh Grand Champion
Chargers (see EAA Sport
Aviation, October 1982 and
EAA Sport Aviation
JIM KOEPNICK
llen Potts, then of
Kalispell, Montana,
came to the attention
of the sport aviation world in
June 1986 when he displayed
his newly completed 150-hp
Wag-A-Bond at the annual
Merced, California, fly-in. It
was a stunning airplane finished in red with gold pinstriped maroon trim.
Homebuilders and antiquers
alike admired it for Allen’s
superb workmanship and his
many innovations—among
them a top-hinged, swing-up
cabin door for ease of entry
33
Beginning of an Odyssey
Once a maker of classical guitars
and having built the Wag-A-Bond
wings, Allen started on what he considered the easiest part of the project: the Charger’s all-wood wings.
Next came the fuselage and all the
other welded components.
“Compared to something like the
Wag-A-Bond, the Charger fuselage is
complicated and difficult to build,
but I’m living proof anyone can
build it,” Allen jokes. “I welded
everything, except for some of the
Brock wing fittings, which are lovely things. I just took every fuselage
station as a project and kept at it
until it was completed, then went
on to the next one.” The stainless
steel firewall was a challenge for
Allen, but eventually, it too, was
soon completed.
Unique among homebuilt airplanes, the Marquart Charger has
cantilever main gear legs somewhat
34
MARCH 2004
ered
me a little at first
because I didn’t
understand
the
geometry, but if you do it right, you
fall in love with them.”
Once the Charger’s primary structure was completed and the secondary components and systems began
going in, Allen employed a number
of the lessons he had learned from
Jim Smith and Remo Galeazzi. The
slave struts connecting the upper
and lower wing ailerons were made
with one size larger tubing than
called out on the plans, and all the
sheet metal on the fuselage was
butted together rather than overlapped. Additionally, a 6-inch wide
channel was installed down the side
of the fuselage, from the firewall to
the rear cockpit, in which the wiring
and many of the control mechanisms were neatly mounted. Raising
the hinged side panels provides
complete access to the back of the
channel for inspection and maintenance—as well as admiration of the
meticulous workmanship. A full set
of flight and engine controls was
LARRY HAWKINS
similar
in concept
to those of
the Stinson
Reliants of
the late 1930s.
Ed
Marquart
designed them to be
welded out of .090-inch thick
4130 steel—tapered box sections
with four flat sides.
“Initially, I couldn’t figure out
just how these four pieces—two
wide ones and two narrow ones—
should go together. So, I called Ed
and asked whether the narrow
pieces should go on the wide ones,
or the wide ones on the narrow
ones. ‘Neither,’ Ed said. ‘Just take a
length of angle iron and clamp the
pieces to it with the edges just
touching, then fill in the ditch with
weld. Start out tack welding the
pieces together, every 4 to 6 inches,
then run the weld seams completely
down the entire edges of the gear
legs.’ What I had feared would be
the most difficult weld of the project turned out to be the easiest.
“Welding the axles on was a
chore, however. Getting them on
straight and true took some careful
alignment, but eventually, it was
done. Once completed, the airplane
tracked perfectly straight, so all the
effort paid off. The gear legs both-
JIM KOEPNICK
June 1985).
Even though he was a first-time
builder, Allen completed the Wag-ABond—from scratch, no kits—in
three years of typical evening and
weekend spare-time work. It would
take 17 years to complete the
Charger, however, during which
time Allen would experience a lot of
changes in his life.
mounted in each cockpit, but only
basic instruments were installed up
front, mainly for symmetry, Allen
says.
“When I started building the
seats, I called Remo and asked if he
had any tips. He said, ‘Yeah, widen
the rear seat 2 inches.’ I asked why,
and he said, ‘Because you can—
there’s nothing back there to keep
you from increasing the width of
the seat by 2 inches.’ I followed his
advice. The seats were covered with
leather, which is the only way to go
on a sporty airplane like the
Charger.”
A Maule tail wheel, which Allen
rebushed to new tolerances, was
used along with 6:00 x 6 Cleveland
wheels and brakes.
On the advice of Ed Marquart,
Allen bought a freshly majored 150hp Lycoming O-320 near the start of
the project and had it sitting in his
shop through most of the 17 years it
took to complete the airplane. He
built his own crossover exhaust system, using mild steel pipes rather
than stainless steel.
“I had used mild steel on my
Wag-A-Bond—just
regular
car
exhaust pipes—and never had a
crack. I don’t care who builds them;
stainless steel pipes will eventually
crack. I knew I would suffer a bit of
a weight penalty with mild steel,
but its crack resistance seemed more
important to me.”
Allen had used the Stits (now
Poly-Fiber) covering process on his
Wag-A-Bond and was quite happy
with it, but he decided to try something else on the Charger.
“I used Ceconite and both nitrate
and butyrate dope, partially because
I had never done it and I wanted to
have the experience, but partially
because Remo recommended it. I
thought if he liked it, it was good
enough for me. It turned out very
nice—the tapes lay down so beautifully with the nitrate dope—but,
boy, does it take the time and number of coats! You’re basically spraying pure lacquer thinner with a little
bit of stuff in it.”
Left to right, builder Allen Potts, Jim Claypool, and Monty Montgomery.
A Bit of Background
Allen is a native of Billings and graduated from Eastern Montana
College there. He met his wife,
Toddy (Claudia), in Billings and
lived in the area until the late 1970s
when they moved across the state to
Kalispell. Allen was in the graphic
arts business, and Toddy became the
director of special education for
three school districts in northwestern Montana. Eventually, they
would move to their present home
in Lakeside, a small community just
a few miles south on Flathead Lake.
Allen says everyone will always
remember the infamous 9/11 date,
but for him the even more infamous
number is 9/13. On that date he suffered a heart attack—from which he
recovered, but to date, it’s still keeping him out of the pilot-in-command seat.
During the long gestation of his
Charger, Allen had many visitors
come through his shop, two of
which, Jim Claypool and Monty
Montgomery, were so impressed
with his workmanship that they put
in a bid for first refusal in the event
Allen ever decided to sell the
Charger. Allen’s heart attack
changed everything, with the result
that the project, then up through
silver, was sold to Jim and Monty—
with the provision that Allen would
work with them to complete it.
Jim Claypool is a native of
Vancouver, Washington. He attended college at the University of
Washington, and afterward the
Peter Kiewit construction company
employed him, where, it turned out,
he would spend his entire 30-year
working career. Based in Seattle, he
ultimately became a vice president
of the firm and retired in 1987 at
age 50. His friends of some 40 years,
Monty Montgomery and his wife,
had moved to Montana in 1985,
EAA Sport Aviation
35
LARRY HAWKINS PHOTOS
This prompted Monty to learn to fly
(at his wife’s insistence), and he and
Jim bought a Citabria in 1998. Ever
the charger—Jim says he is “72 and
going on about 37”—Monty began
flying at 65 and has already logged
around 700 hours of flying time.
36
MARCH 2004
and after visiting them there, Jim
and his wife decided to build a
house there, also. Today, they maintain
homes
in
Bellevue,
Washington, and Marion, Montana.
Monty Montgomery was originally from Ontario, Canada, but
moved with his parents to southern
California in 1946. He was an auto
mechanic for a time, but went to
work for his father-in-law in the
drilling equipment manufacturing
business after he was married. After
his father-in-law’s death, Monty
went into the drilling business,
rather than manufacturing the
equipment, and specialized in big
holes—anything from 2 feet in
diameter up to as much as 21 feet.
He did a lot of work on the North
Slope of Alaska, drilling the holes
for bridge supports and some of the
vertical support members for the
Alaskan oil pipeline. He retired in
1985 and settled in Montana.
The tie that would ultimately
bind the lives of Allen Potts, Jim
Claypool, and Monty Montgomery
together was their need for speed.
All love Harleys, snowmobiles, race
cars, and airplanes—anything that
goes fast in any dimension.
Jim has long been a fan of auto
racing and eventually started his
own late model NASCAR Northwest
Tour race team. Very successful, the
team would win a couple of championships and be in contention
every year. Now running a limited
schedule, Jim’s driver scored two
wins, a second, and a third during
the 2003 season.
Monty Montgomery began racing
motorcycles in the 1950s—and is still
at it in his early 70s! Last year he participated in a race on a half-mile track
in Missoula—and won. This is the
type of flat track racing in which
competitors go into a turn at 100
miles per hour and power slide
around it with the bike laid over
almost flat, supported by the rider’s
steel-soled boot. Monty also did a lot
of desert racing—those wild melees in
which as many as 800 riders charge
out over the desert as fast as they can.
In the mid-60s he also raced
inboard hydroplanes at speeds
approaching 130 mph. Those were
the days when the driver sat behind
the engine, and the aptly named little beasts were as prone to fly as
skim the surface of the water.
Both Jim and Monty began flying
later in life. Jim learned to fly in
Cessna 150s and 152s in 1991 and
talked Monty into a partnership
building a GlaStar in the mid-1990s.
Back to Building—and Flying
After they bought the Charger, Jim
and Monty decided to have the long
dormant 150 Lycoming rebuilt and
upgraded a bit. It was sent to Aero
Sport Power in Canada where 9.25to-1 pistons were installed, along
with the replacement of the right
mag with a Lightspeed electronic
ignition system. A lightweight B&C
starter and alternator were also
installed. Coupled with the usual
hot rod-type internal cleanup and
balancing of rotating parts, the
upgrades increased the horsepower
from 150 to 175, according to Aero
Sport Power’s dynamometer.
The engine installation included
provision for heat to both cockpits.
The heat muff was stuffed with
stainless steel Chore Boy dish scrubbers to slow down the airflow and
allow it to absorb more heat before
being piped into the cockpits.
Meanwhile, Allen was completing work on the fiberglass fairings.
“The big lower wing root fillets
took four months to complete.
Trying to determine where the holes
for the flying wires passed through
them was a real pain. You just had
to do your best estimate on the
angles of the wires, cut the holes
oversize, and then re-glass them to
get a close fit around the wires. I
used Cherokee wheelpants, modified to accept Cessna access doors
for airing the tires.”
When the airplane was ready for
painting, it was trucked to Camas,
Washington, to Jim Claypool’s
cousin, Les Scott, who specializes in
painting Stearmans. Jim and Monty
have Harley Hawgs with replica
1937 sidecars attached, so Allen
talked them into having the
Charger painted in matching Harley
colors: Sinister Blue Pearl and
Diamond Ice.
“Les did a beautiful job,” Allen
says, “and I learned a little something about paint from him. He
used a PPG polyurethane base coat,
but switched to an Imron clear coat
because he could reduce it up to 15
percent, which makes it flow better
than the PPG clear, Les says. After
we got the airplane back to
Montana, I told Jim and Monty it
needed just one more touch:
Electric Blue pinstriping around the
trim. They agreed and flew in a
young fellow from Kennewick,
Washington, who is the Northwest’s
premier pinstriper. He freehands the
stripes with brushes like they did
back in the 1950s and did a beautiful job. He also painted on Jim and
Monty’s names—and mine as the
builder. I got a little choked up
when I saw that. It was their airplane now, and they didn’t have to
do that. They’re just great guys.”
When it was assembled for the
final time, the wings were rigged
using a Smart Level and plumb
bobs—and it hasn’t needed adjustment since, Allen says.
Monty Montgomery, who was an
accomplished taildragger pilot by
this time, made the first flight on
February 12, 2003, and flew off
most of the FAA-required 25-hour
test time. The only development
work required involved the propeller. A 74-by-56-inch Sensenich
metal prop from a 150-hp Super
Cub was used initially, but with the
Charger’s engine boosted to 175 hp,
more pitch was needed. A switch
was made to a 74-by-60-inch prop
from a Piper Pacer, but it too, was
short of pitch. Finally, the Pacer
prop was re-pitched to 62 inches,
and that has proven to be just about
perfect, according to Allen.
Since it was built very closely to
Ed Marquart’s plans, the weights
and performance figures for
N413AC came out very close to Ed’s
specs for a 150/180-hp version of
the Charger. Best of all, however, it
handles as nicely as everyone says
they do, according to the owners—
EAA Sport Aviation
37
JIM KOEPNICK
A generous set of flight and engine
controls was mounted in each cockpit.
“That’s okay,” he says. “I have
no regrets. I’ve enjoyed every
minute of my years of building and
flying, plus I know a few guys who
will let me ride with them.”
One thing was certain. Allen left
Oshkosh last summer justifiably
proud of his 17-year effort to produce an award-winning Marquart
Charger.
EAA PHOTO BY ERIC LUNDAHL
just a touch of bittersweetness for
Allen Potts. Not certain that he can
get his medical back, he’s faced
with the possibility that his flying
days are over.
Ed Marquart, EAA 198, holds court around a Charger at an early fly-in.
Ed Marquart and His MA5 Charger
commendably stable and with beautifully harmonized, light control
responses.
Allen says that one interesting little quirk was discovered early in the
test period that may be of interest to
all tandem-seat, open-cockpit
biplane builders. Typically, N413AC
had a lot of turbulence in the rear
cockpit, an annoyance that is usually attributed to downwash off the
top wing. Allen, Jim, and Monty
found, however, that when they
removed the front windshield and
38
MARCH 2004
designed the model MA4, a single-place biplane he
called the Marquart Lancer.
The prototype MA5 Marquart Charger was finished
in 1971, and Ed flew it to Oshkosh. Since that humble introduction, Ed has sold more than 400 sets of
plans.
Plans for the classic biplane are still available from
Ed, who can be reached at P.O. Box 3032, Riverside,
CA, 92519-3032, or 909/683-9582.
put a cover on the front cockpit, the
turbulence in the rear ‘pit was eliminated. The obvious conclusion,
they believed, was that the front
cockpit’s windshield, which was the
same height as the rear windshield,
was the deflector of the airstream
into the rear cockpit, rather than
the top wing. As a result, they cut
down the height of the front windshield—and, sure enough, the rear
seat turbulence went away. It might
not be the same on all biplanes,
they say, but it works on their
Charger.
Last summer, with Jim and Allen
hauling the baggage in Jim’s
Cessna 182 and Monty flying the
Charger, the trio set out for
Oshkosh, and except for some
gusty wind at a fuel stop at Austin,
Minnesota, they had an enjoyable
flight to Wisconsin. The Charger
was one of the homebuilt sensations at EAA AirVenture Oshkosh
2003 and ended up with a Bronze
Lindy on awards night.
It was an evening tinged with
LARRY HAWKINS
E
d Marquart is one of sport aviation’s pioneers
at the now-famous Flabob Airport in California
where he shares inspiration with well-known airplane-building personalities in EAA Chapter 1 such as
Ray Stits and Lou Stolp. His first airplane design was
strictly a test model—the MA3 Marquart Maverick—
that Ed used it to investigate his design ideas.
He opened his shop at Flabob Airport on August 1,
1958—just five years after the founding of EAA—and
BIPLANING
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
Westward Into The Fog
Paul Berge’s biplane Journey of Discovery from Ailerona, Iowa to
Monterey, California (originally published in Antique Airfield Runway
magazine)
by Paul Berge
ike blackened teeth in the lower
jaw of a long dead titan, the
mountain ridge northeast of El
Paso, Texas blocked what I’d thought
would be a shortcut to Carlsbad, New
Mexico. But, whatever I’d thought in
my former life before departing on this
4000-mile biplane ride rarely matched
what the mountains and deserts
viewed from an open cockpit had to
teach. In short, there was no way I was
getting over that ridge without a serious handshake from the ghost riders
dancing among the craggy peaks.
It had begun two weeks earlier
when I left Iowa in a Marquart Charger
headed to Watsonville, California for
its annual Memorial Day fly-in and
spaghetti fest. I’d worked at that airport in the 1970s, and this was my first
return flight. Doing so in a biplane
seemed the perfect way to fly across
both miles and time, only I didn’t realize how broad both spectra were.
The miles, I could measure on charts
that ripped apart in the cockpit’s wind,
but above landscapes so wide the
mind was sucked into unseen horizons that reworked all concepts of
place and time.
Looking back, now, the journey
plays out as a mind movie where the
reels are run in no particular order—
a mountain landing in Ruidoso, New
Mexico with density altitude at 10,000
feet shares the screen with a hellish
fire bog called Blyth, California where
triple-digit heat on a deserted air field
made me feel as though I’d flown off
the planet and into a place where
rattlesnakes complained about the
heat.
Still, when all these disparate images are raked together, sorted, and
laid end for end, the trip begins with
a cool morning take-off from a small
grass strip in Iowa and ends 45 flying
L
hours later on the same turf but with
a changed pilot re-educated by a truly
amazing biplane.
About the Biplane
It’s a Marquart Charger (MA-5) and
was designed by Ed Marquart of Riverside, California’s Flabob Airport and
built 25 years ago by Dr. Roy C. Wicker
of Quitman, Georgia. Not many were
built over the years, perhaps a hundred, but at every stop on my trip,
someone would slowly walk toward
the biplane with that respectful I-think-
The journey plays
“
out as a mind movie
where the reels are run
in no particular order...
”
I-recognize-it look.
“Is it a Skybolt?
“Nope, Marquart Charger,” I’d answer while unbuckling the four-point
harness and pulling myself out of the
cockpit by the handles on the upper
wing, a maneuver that, by itself,
makes owning a biplane worthwhile.
“Marquette, huh?”
“No,” I’d say and swing first one
leg then the other over the rim to climb
down the wing. “Marquart—‘quart,’”
and spell it out to drive the name deep
into the stranger’s consciousness. After that, I’d list the specs: “Four wings,
four ailerons, two seats, but I’m using
the front seat for baggage,” pointing to
the metal lid with the compass on top
covering the front cockpit.
“Aerobatic?”
“Yeah, but I’m lousy at it.
“What’s it got for an engine?”
“Lycoming O-360,” and I’d pop
the cowling open so heat rolled past
us.
“Hundred and eighty horsepower,
swinging a McCauley fixed-pitch
prop.”
“Inverted fuel?”
“No.”
“Smoke system?”
“Only where oil leaks onto the
exhaust.”
“Fast, is it?”
“For a biplane, sure, but speed’s
not the selling point. Cruises about a
hundred and five knots at sixty-five
percent power, faster if you wanna
burn more gas, which since it uses
hundred octane costing more than
single-malt scotch, I don’t always
wanna do.”
“Burn about twelve gallons an
hour?”
“More like ten, stop-to-stop,” I’d
say. “Makes the math easy enough
even for me.”
I’ve never liked math, so round
numbers work best, and in round
terms the Charger flies at Cessna 172
speeds—the old straight tails, not the
stuffy new ones at a quarter mil each—
while burning Cherokee 180 fuel rates
with the advantage of having only half
the Cherokee’s range and load capabilities.
Advantage? Absolutely, because
with a Charger you make lots of stops,
and if you arrive in Lordsburg, New
Mexico in a Cherokee no one walks
through the ramp’s furnace to ask you
about your airplane. They don’t stand
beside it while their sneakers melt into
the hot pavement and stare at the
stacked wings laced together with
shiny flying wires and bug-crusted
struts. They don’t ask the Cherokee
drivers where they’re from, are they
mad, or what’s it like to ride across the
July 2005 • (c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com
1
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
sky with nothing above their brains but
a coat of SPF 500 sunscreen and a
canvas flying helmet?
When I landed in Kansas after
dodging Toto-eating thunderstorms,
the owner of a Hawker bizjet that’d
landed behind me rushed over to
circle the biplane in awe saying how
much better it must be to see the world
from my machine than from his kerosene tube-o-comfort. I offered to swap
him even, but guys who own jets and
wear dreamy dot.com smiles have
more sense than biplane pilots like me
who’ve been too long in the air and are
in need of a bath, real food, and a
clean rag to wipe the oil leaks dripping from the cowl.
He smiled, climbed into his jet,
and ordered the two pilots up front to
whoosh him back into his world
where, no doubt, that night over white
wine in Aspen he’d retell his friends
about the gray-haired, smelly biwinged bum he’d met in Kansas,
“Pass the brie, please, Clarissa…” and
Below: Thad Fenton (on left) and author (at cowling) in front of the EAA
Chapter 119 hangar at Watsonville, Ca
(WVI). (Photo by Curtis Kelly.)
2
the Marquart would fade from his
memory.
For 25 years this Marquart—built
from plans, no kits—has turned heads
and brought smiles to flyers and nonbelievers alike. Ed Marquart apparently spent years designing what was
for him the best of all biplanes, and I’d
own
“jetsGuysandwho wear
dreamy dot.com
smiles have more
sense than biplane
pilots like me...
”
say he got it right.
Walk around one and study the
shapes. As your eyes pass the images
to your brain you’ll see a Great Lakes
Trainer, or perhaps just a hint of
Bucker in the swept wings. Many see
a Steen Skybolt until the Charger
owner explains how Rubinesque in
the waist and tail Skybolts are by comparison.
Others see Starduster or Hatz—all
gems in their own ways, but in the end
this biplane with so many influences
in its pedigree is a unique item—it’s a
(c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com • July 2005
Marquart. It’s a funny name to say
(sounds like the Aflack duck clearing
its throat), but it’s a good biplane to fly.
Structurally, it’s nothing exotic and
that adds to its charm. Wood wings—
spars and ribs—with a welded steel
fuselage lined with aluminum stringers form its Lauren Bacall waistline
above a tight tail, all covered in cotton and dope that’s still tough after 25
hangared years. N645’s US Navy paint
scheme is a tribute to its builder’s
(Wicker) wartime career as a Naval
Aviator.
The tail looks too small, and in that
momentary transition from tail-high
wheel landing to tail-down taxi, it feels
briefly inadequate especially in crosswinds. While it wheel lands as
sweetly as a Citabria, Aeronca
Champ, or Cessna 140, it’s easy to
overreact to the turning tendencies at
slow speeds—at least in this Charger,
I can’t speak for others.
Since I routinely operate from a
2200-foot grass strip in Iowa, the milelong runways so common out West
seemed like child’s play, but at the
higher density altitudes—routinely
above 5000 feet—my touchdowns
tended to be hard. Until I got the hang
of higher altitude ops an embarrassing whiff of burning rubber accompanied each arrival. With faster touchdown groundspeeds and the lack of
soft grass to correct my sloppy technique, landings were, well, spirited at
times.
Where I’ve been used to a soft
rumbling touchdown on dewy turf
followed by a short roll as the tailwheel
acted like a hook in the grass, the heatsoaked pavement in Benson, Arizona
squealed as scrub raced past, runway
lights threatened to clip the lower
wing tips, and coyotes ran for the hills.
The temptation is to bring the tail
down too soon, which simply increases the angle of attack, adds lift,
and makes the arrival even squirrelier.
Full-stall landings might be better, but,
hell, I like wheel landing. The secret
is to trust in Ed Marquart’s design and
allow the biplane to roll without too
much pilot-induced interference.
Properly rigged and aptly flown—
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
meaning don’t get too aggressive—the
Charger rolls straight. Thankfully, it
has the old Goodyear brakes, which
are so crappy there’s little chance of
aggravating the situation with amateurish braking.
Takeoffs can be a directional challenge, too, at high altitudes with full
fuel and light winds. That little bit of
extra runway needed before lift-off
gives more exposure to stupidity (aka:
Pilot Induced Stupidity Syndrome).
The trick is to feed the throttle in
smoothly and anticipate the left-turning tendencies both from normal
torque and p-factor as the power increases and from the gyroscopic leftturn tendency induced as the tail rises.
Then, gently correct with the merest
breath of right rudder while holding
aileron against the crosswind—all
basic stick-and-rudder technique
used at sea level but magnified somewhat by heat, altitude, and the selfinduced anxiety of knowing that a
thousand miles from home is a dumb
place to drag a wing tip.
The Marquart was never over
gross even with two on board, and
with many of its 180 horses available
on take-off (assuming you lean properly), if all else fails just squeeze back
on the stick to coax the whole bundle
of wires, wings, and sweaty owner
clear of the ground. Lower the nose
into ground effect, and as the speed
nudges 85 knots, climb away. Once
clear of the taller cacti, oilrigs, and
cowboy hats, a 95-knot climb gives
descent cooling but never good forward visibility.
Although never over gross, the CG
does shift aft with weight, which aids
cruise speed but took all nose-down
trim from the biplanes screw-jack trim
system. While stalls in this swept-wing
biplane are somewhat benign, practicing them at low altitude when fully
loaded isn’t advisable, so close attention to airspeed and coordination—as
in any airplane—is a must in the pattern.
Limiting Factors
The Marquart is blind over the nose
to the rear seat pilot in command. My
beginner’s tendency was to lower the
nose too much for cruise. The result
was a 200 foot-per-minute descent—
good airspeed, but down you go.
Properly trimmed you won’t see
much past the cowling in level flight
so occasional pitch dips or gentle
banks are in order throughout cruise
to spot traffic and TV towers. In a
Cherokee or other traveling machine
this might be considered a design flaw,
but the biplane mind knows that
straight-and-level is not a goal here. In
fact, it’s nearly impossible to travel
more than two minutes without rolling left, then right, while tilting your
head back to watch for Fokkers, or to
gaze over the cockpit’s rim in envy of
the buzzards circling through nearby
thermals.
The biplane’s mission is to fly not
to travel. Getting to a destination is a
happy byproduct of the adventure.
Before taking the biplane plunge you
have to ask yourself, “Do you want to
get somewhere or do you want to be
somewhere?” In open-cockpit, you’re
always somewhere even though it
might be nowhere near your intended
destination. Time, somehow, loses its
earthly grip in flight.
Still, my destination was northern
California along the Monterey Bay,
and en route I stopped in Van Nuys to
pick up Curtis Kelly, a friend who’s
Above: The Marquart Charger on the
ramp in the 100-degree heat at
Benson, Az (E95).
also a tailwheel pilot. From Van Nuys,
where I’d irritated just about every air
traffic controller with my microphonein-the wind voice, to Watsonville,
Curtis rode in the front seat while I
discovered how miserably windy it
gets in the back when the front hole
is open. The problem is the windshields.
A quick look at the two cockpits
shows each with a windshield equal
in size. Both were transplanted from
a Ryan PT22—classy but that front
screen generates hurricanes in the
back. Picture the slipstream flowing
along the fuselage when the front seat
is buttoned up; it hits the rear screen
and coils into space leaving the solo
pilot grinning in relative calm. I can
fly alone from the back seat wearing
a baseball cap turned ‘round and a
pair of sunglasses without fear of losing either.
But when you open the front seat
for guests and tack on the forward
windshield things change. The wind
now smacks the front glass, which, because it stands so tall, deflects the blast
into the under side of the upper wing
July 2005 • (c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com
3
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
where it ricochets down onto the rear
pilot’s head. The sensation is like losing an hour-long pillow fight. The
front-seater, meanwhile, sits in comfort, confused why the guy behind him
is so punch drunk on landing. The
solution, I’m told, is to cut the front
windshield down by a third to reduce
that deflection. Since I can’t bring
myself to damage a 60-year-old airplane part, I’m having a smaller wind-
shield made from Lexan®. We’ll see
how that fits and report back. Either
that or you’ll see a Lexan windscreen
for sale on e-Bay in a month.
Despite the backseat pummeling,
I found that by wearing goggles
throughout the flight with a front seat
passenger I could survive with only
minor brain damage, which my neurologist
assures
me
isn’t
permanent…isn’t permanent...isn’t
per…(Thwack!).
I’m fine, really.
Engine heat was another issue
even before the journey. With the
Lycoming turning money into power,
a lot of heat needs to escape and usually through the firewall and into the
fuselage, where with the front cockpit sealed shut, it quickly flows to the
rear seat to cook the pilot’s feet. Being
open cockpit does nothing to cool
The Good, The Bad, The Hotter ‘n Hell Stops
When planning your next vacation
trip don’t ask me for help, because
I can’t draw a straight line let alone
follow one. Over two weeks and 45
biplaning hours, we covered
roughly 4000 miles from Indianola,
Iowa (IA66) to Watsonville, California (WVI) and back again. Along the
way, I smoked the tires at 34 different airports, several of which I visited twice. Some stand out as excellent stops while a few have already
faded into heat-soaked blurs.
Lordsburg, New Mexico, for instance, conjures wavy images of
crushing heat and the sudden appearance of Border Patrol wagons
full of temporary visitors about to be
processed back to Mexico. All in all,
a depressing stop.
The route from Iowa wandered
south to Lubbock, Texas taking advantage of a slot of clear air between
two cold fronts. Lubbock (LBB) Airport is about the size of Delaware
and home to the WWII Glider Pilots
Museum next door to Aero Lubbock,
a descent FBO that—oddly—doesn’t
allow you to camp overnight on its
couch.
From Lubbock we pushed west
at dawn into New Mexico. It was
cool on the ground and had I stayed
low I could’ve enjoyed a smooth ride
all the way to Lovington. Instead I
climbed into the inversion layer of
heat. When descending back into
Lovington 100 mile later, I discovered the mistake and stayed low for
the next leg to Roswell where aliens
4
invited me into their mother ship for
refreshments and what I thought
were rather probing questions. I refueled, gawked at the dozens of
ghost airliners parked nose to
tailpipe on the ramp awaiting the
guillotine, and launched in the late
morning heat for the high country
where up the mountains west of
Roswell is Ruidoso, New Mexico.
The name means “Noisy River,” not
terribly clever but a pleasant enough
tourist trap with a great airport at the
6800-foot level. The temperature
was in the 80s making the density
altitude 9600 feet, my highest density altitude operation of the trip. The
biplane handled it fine, both landing and the cool morning departure
the next day.
The short trip from Ruidoso to
Alamogordo was marked by contrast. At Sierra Blanca the air was
cool, the scenery stunning with
snowy mountain peaks and rolling
forests—most of which catch fire
each summer to clean out all the
mansions built over the winter. Drifting down the slopes toward
Alamogordo, the land turns dry
again with the White Sands moonscape and missile range stretched
out as far as I could see to the west.
At Alamogordo I asked advice about
heading to El Paso and was told,
“Stay close to Highway 54 and you
won’t get shot down in the restricted
areas that straddle the highway for
70 miles.”
Next stop, Dona Ana County
(c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com • July 2005
(5T6) west of El Paso with 8500 feet
of wide runway. From there Interstate 10 shoots north than west, so we
took a shortcut along a railroad toward Deming, New Mexico. Fuel
status was good, and we pushed on
to Lordsburg, arriving in time for the
border festival. Then, off to Benson,
Arizona, where it was so miserably
hot (“But a dry heat”) that we spent
the night. The Benson FBO was
great. They loaned me a van to head
into town and the next morning I
returned it to depart at dawn when
the desert is beautiful, and all the
scorpions and snakes are too tired
from a night of eating each other to
pester you too much.
Casa Grande (CGZ) is a must for
any AAA member. Not because the
airport is exceptional—it’s nice
enough and has some cool airplanes—but just because the people
are, well, they’re some of us. In particular, there’s a small shop near the
self-serve pumps run by a mechanic
named Sonny. I think he’s been
there since Goldwater bought the
land from Spain and was tremendously helpful clearing up a plugfouling problem. The problem was I
wasn’t leaning properly. I was leaning like a wimpy Easterner, and in
the hot highlands the Lycoming demands aggressive leaning as soon as
the engine starts.
From Casa Grande I attempted
to fly direct to Buckeye, Arizona
(BXK) with radar service through the
(continued on next page)
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
things below the belt. In fact, the open
cockpit acts like a chimney drawing
heat onto the pilot. A pair of NACA
vents at thigh level brings in some air,
but still the heat persists, and knowing I’d be headed to places named
Death-By-Heatstroke, Arizona, I cut
two vents into the boot cowling and
padded the firewall on the passenger
side. The results were good; heat was
greatly reduced. Still, near the surface
on scorching days it’s bloody hot in
any airplane.
Sadly, in winter that heat isn’t
there, so you’ll freeze your butt in the
Marquart in January. Its detachable
bubble canopy helps on sunny winter
days, but the key word is detachable.
On a particularly cold morning I tried
to taxi with the bubble canopy par-
tially latched only to discover how easily it becomes detached from the
airframe, taking rivets, eyeglasses, and my choicest
swear words with it.
All the comfort issues
from wind and heat were
minor and in no way overrode the tremendous joy
this open-cockpit biplane
offers. I’ve been flying and teaching in
tailwheelers such as Champs and
Citabrias for years, but the step into the
biplane life unlatches and demands
a whole new appreciation of the sky.
Biplanes are made for grass, but
the Marquart mixes well with the big
stuff. Returning to Van Nuys from
Camarillo, the tower growled at me to
Phoenix Class B airspace, but Phoenix Approach was highly uncooperative, so I flew west of the Sierra
Estrella range and into Buckeye,
which is infested with gyrocopters.
No FBO, but self-serve 100LL was
available and I was soon headed to
my favorite desert vacation spot of
all—Blyth, California, elevation 397
feet MSL and located equidistance
between nowhere and nothing.
This is one bleak place where
you don’t want to land after the FBO
closes, because even the gila monsters won’t talk to you. I fueled there
in late morning on the way to Van
Nuys, and it was a good enough stop
for fuel, ice cream, and running
water. But on the return trip, I
touched down at 5:30 PM, thirty
minutes after the FBO had locked
up and left. The place was deserted
and miserably hot without much
shade—a truly dangerous place to
linger. There’s no outside phone, no
water, and nobody within survivable
walking distance.
Luckily, my cell phone worked
and a less-than-enthusiastic motelier
picked me up. Blyth, too, was a
WWII military field and still retains
traces of the old ramps and hangars.
Strangely, the city built a sprawling
power plant off the end of runway 8
when they had the entire desert to
put it elsewhere.
From Blythe we crossed Palm
Springs to land at Banning Airport
(BNG) in the Banning Pass where the
wind always blows straight down
runway 27. Little traffic for an airport
so near to L.A., but the FBO was
friendly and I refueled and launched
for the final leg into Van Nuys, where
I displayed to all on several ATC frequencies just how little I knew about
southern California landmarks by remarking to tower that there was no
way I could tell the Ventura Freeway
from the Four-O-Five, at which point
he sighed and asked me to make a
short approach to get out of his hair.
Marquarts can make short approaches, so honor was saved, and
we taxied to Million Air, which to my
surprise, was one the best FBOs of
the entire trip. No doubt, they mistook me for Harrison Ford, because
although I bought only ten gallons of
gas they gave me a free covered tie
down spot and let me use the indoor
plumbing. Way better than Blyth.
Other good stops on the trip included: Camarillo and Paso Robles,
California. The former (CMA) has a
great café and loads of war birds; the
latter (PRB) has pretty scenery and
great wines within tasting distance.
Above: Pilots Curtis Kelly (left) and
Paul Berge pre-departure mug shots
at Van Nuys, Ca. (VNY). (Photo by
Stephanie of Hollywood.)
proceed direct to the end of the runway and keep my speed up because
Watsonville has a good Mexican restaurant (Zunigas) on the field.
Guymon, Oklahoma (GUY) was an
unplanned escape from fog but
turned out to be a terrific airport with
a smattering of Beech 18s and a DC3 on the ramp. There’s also a good
Mexican restaurant in tow. Another
fog stop was Marysville, Missouri
(EVU) run by Kevin Rankin, who
bent over backwards to help.
The cheapest avgas en route
was at Lovington (E06), a skid mark
of a town in the New Mexico oil
fields. A former TWA pilot who
doesn’t fly anymore but does his
best to keep the rest of us aloft runs
the airport.
My favorite airport of all,
though, was Hooker, Oklahoma
(O45). No FBO, no traffic, but a great
name for their local baseball team:
“The Horny Toad Hookers.”
You don’t learn things like this
filing IFR in a Cessna 210; real vacation gems only come from
taildraggin’ around in an open
cockpit biplane looking for a place
to refuel, grab a cheap meal, and
skirt whatever weather, mountains,
or government-restricted airspace
threatens ahead. Just don’t call me
if Hooker doesn’t live up to your
expectations.
July 2005 • (c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com
5
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
a jet was to follow. Debates over shockcooling aside, the Marquart can give
ATC good climb and descent rates and
a decent speed to short final, where
with power back you gently lift the
nose to bleed off speed to make the
runway and a reasonable turn-off.
Several times when wheel landing at towered airports, I had to ignore
controllers asking me to make a turnoff while the tail was still in the air.
Landing at Salina, Kansas, for instance, the tower controller—
swamped with two airplanes—
harped at me to make the first intersection, but with one wheel barely on
the ground at that point, I ignored him
(I’d been a controller for 17 years, so I
know how to ignore authority). When
he repeated the request and told me
to “expedite my taxi,” I lowered the
tailwheel and politely explained that
unless he wanted to call the wrecker,
I’d need to be a little more cautious in
ground ops.
Inexperienced line personnel exhibit a similar lack of understanding
when directing tailwheel airplanes
into tie-downs. They’ll signal me to a
spot and then wave at me to taxi directly toward them until I can no longer
see their arms. They get the message
and step aside when the spinning prop
keeps coming despite their signals to
stop.
Below: Guymon, Oklahoma (GUY).
An unplanned stop for thunderstorms
and fog turned out to be one of the best.
three tanks. The main holds 17 gallons in the fuselage forward of the
front cockpit. It has an electric fuel
Endurance
The Marquart Charger, like many biplanes, isn’t known for its range. It’s
designed to run about the sky on pretty
days having fun. Cross-country trips
are best planned with the knowledge
that you’ll make lots of stops.
The Charger holds 28 gallons, 27
of which are usable, divided among
I followed a high“
way across a vast expanse of dryness leading to Carlsbad, New
Mexico
”
gauge on the rear instrument panel
and is accurate to within 15 gallons.
Two five-gallon aux tanks are in the
top wing. Each tank has a tiny filler
neck, so the airplane was regularly
flushed clean with avgas at each refueling. Reaching the upper tanks is
an awkward balancing act when
standing on a stepladder’s warning
placard: Do Not Sit Or Stand…
With 27 gallons burned at ten gallons per hour, the Charger gets roughly
two-and-a-half hours range if you don’t
mind landing in the desert. I planned
one to one-and-a-half-hour legs, netting from 100 to 200 miles depending
on winds.
Drinking bottled water en route
assured that I wouldn’t be tempted to
stretch that, although, over Santa Barbara when that extra cup of morning
coffee called ready to leave, I seriously
considered standing up to relieve
myself while Curtis flew.
The fuel selector is located in the
rear cockpit. I’d normally take off on
the main tank, climb, and then level
off and set power and mixture. Then,
I’d switch to aux and hit the timer. Fifty
minutes later—about one hour into the
flight—I’d switch back to main where
I knew I had at least an hour left plus
a few gallons sloshing around in the
upstairs tank. The longest leg I flew
on this trip was 1:40.
I did run a tank dry over the Oklahoma panhandle. It’s surprisingly easy
to do when you’re not paying attention
and, instead, staring at a wind turbine
farm below. The sound of coughing silence, however, gets the message
across and with boost pump on it was
only a few agonizing seconds before
the engine growled back to life. A few
more and my heart did the same.
The Route
Headed across country you’re going
to cross mountains at some point. I
chose the southern route for several
reasons, but mainly because in years
past I’d flown two northerly routes via
Interstate 80 and even further north
along Interstate 90 through Missoula,
6
(c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com • July 2005
(c) 2005, Paul Berge www.ailerona.com)
Montana. Foul weather blocked these
routes for the entire time.
The southerly route from Lubbock,
Texas (home of the WWII Glider Pilots
Museum) through El Paso, Lordsburg,
Benson, Arizona, Tucson, Phoenix,
Palm Springs, Banning, and across
Los Angeles offered lots of fuel stops,
easy-to-follow Interstate 10 (a comfort
if the engine quit), plus lower terrain
when compared to routes through
Wyoming or even via Albuquerque
along the old Route 66. High temperatures were a concern but just a few
thousand feet above most terrain the
air was smooth, and wearing tee shirt,
shorts, and cloth helmet I was comfortable.
The scenery from up there was
mind bogglingly stark yet beautiful,
and I’ll admit at times it felt intimidating since I was used to lush green
Iowa. I carried lots of water but I’d
made the mistake of not drinking regularly on the first legs and found myself dehydrated—a syndrome that’s
not automatically recognized but easily prevented.
Unto the Maw
So, somewhere northeast of El Paso,
Texas, after a week and a half in the
Marquart Charger, I followed a highway across a vast expanse of dryness
leading to Carlsbad, New Mexico my
next fuel stop. On the map, the road
bowed to the right but looking around
the biplane’s nose I saw a wide valley
dotted with green circles from pivotpoint irrigation.
The desert literally bloomed
through here and beaconed for me to
shave a few miles off my safety route
along the highway and go direct. I
veered away from the concrete ribbon
and felt good following the lily pads
across this sea of brown. To my right
was a giant salt flat, a place that would
drain all traces of moisture from any
ill-fated traveler who landed there. To
my left were miles of a New Mexico
that routinely ate up conquistadors,
silver prospectors, and Iowa lame
brains like me with no respect for its
harsh immensity and our
own insignificance.
Ahead, the lily pads quit
at the base of a mountain
ridge where at the south
end the blackened teeth
of the long dead titan offered a foreboding specter. I checked the gas
gauge and timers knowing I had plenty of fuel,
especially with the
tailwind, but the closer I came to the
hills, the louder the ghost riders
laughed until the lily pads disappeared and I saw I’d need to climb
even higher to cross the last few dozen
miles of earth that looked as though it
hadn’t softened since whatever volcanic heave that created it had cooled
millions of years before. And it was
then I chickened out and turned toward the highway I’d abandoned
miles back.
Green gave way to salt flats and
then climbed into the rugged teeth of
a ridge that loomed well above my
head poking out from my tiny biplane
shell. The wind pushed me along at
groundspeeds over 150 knots, amazing for a boxy old pile of cotton, wood,
and wire.
As I paralleled the ridge headed
for the left turn that would reconnect
me with the relative comfort of the
highway the thought dawned that
whatever wind pushed me so
smoothly along this ridge would likely
prove amusing when I made the turn
to the leeward side. It was then the
ghost riders laughed, and the wind
hooked me around the mountain’s
point like a scrap of litter swirling
down a storm drain. Still smooth, the
air seemed to reach a giant enveloping arm that turned me over the highway, and as I accepted the shove I felt
the biplane sink—and not just a little.
The VSI pointed down 500 feet
per minute and I cracked the throttle,
which only amused the mountain, as
the winds now tumbled in a wave
across the ridge and sat like a
crushingly soft weight on the biplane.
Above: Lost in time (and in what few
thoughts might be had) somewhere
over California’s Salinas Valley. (photo
by Curtis Kelly)
No lenticular clouds, no dust, no mobile homes swirling past, just a blue
sky dying over me, taking me toward
the desert floor despite the biplane’s
now full power climb and prayerful
utterances from the cockpit.
Finally, when the ghost riders
were fully amused and I’d turned to
the safety of the flat lands to my right,
the sky seemed to wink, as in, “Got yer
attention, now, didn’t we?” And I nodded politely toward the toothy ridge,
giving a quick salute from a sweaty
palm, and said, “Hey, I’m just learning.” And the mountain let me, and
the biplane, pass.
It would be three more days of
dodging Kansas thunderstorms, scud
running beneath foggy decks, and
turning back when I was only 30 miles
from home before the journey decided
I’d learned enough…
For now.
The End
© 2005, Paul Berge
All rights reserved. No part may be
reproduced without permission.
Contact Ahquabi House Publishing,
LLC for permission to copy.
www.ailerona.com
Ahquabi House Publishing
11872 G58 Hwy
Indianola, Iowa 50125
July 2005 • (c) Paul Berge www.ailerona.com
7
Design Group 2
Meeting # 7
June 24, 2006
10:00 am
M
Meeeettiinngg S
Scchheedduullee::
2006 Meeting Schedule
10:00 am
FlaBob Airport
Chapter One Hanger
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
At FlaBob Airport
24
15
26
16
28
18
16
Check this site for any schedule updates and
changes.
http://www.eaach1.org/calen.html
Check this site for newsletters
In Chapter One Hanger
http://www.eaach1.org/design.html
Wainfan and Crawfo
wford
Presentations
Barnaby Wainfan
Will Lecture on Drag Reduction
Donald Crawford
Will Demonstrate His Wind Tunnel
ALL THIS ON JUNE 24, 2006