My Dad and Howard Hughes by Jim Rode, Dallas wedding photographer

American Airlines shut down the TWA maintenance facility in Kansas City today. (TWA was acquired by American in 2001). TWA goes back to the early days of the mid-20th century. It was Howard Hughes' airline. Howard was an great aviator and slightly weird millionaire. He was likely OCD (undiagnosed in those days) and probably dependent on pain killers from his severe injuries incurred in plane crashes.

My dad became his mechanic (and at least once a co-pilot) when he came through KC. My dad had both a pilots license and was A & E and A & P certified. Being both a mechanic and pilot was very unusual in the 40s and 50s. Most people in those days weren't even passengers on airlines let alone flew planes. (People still clung to train travel). If they flew an airliner they were paying a pretty price and dressing up for the adventure.

During the war, my dad was drafted several times. He worked for North American and he was the chief inspector on the bomber line. Every so often he would receive his draft notice. The plant would contact the war department and demand he be returned as an essential worker. He finally received a Presidential deferment from Roosevelt so he wouldn't have to report every few months to the draft board. He easily secured a job with Trans Continental (later TWA) after the war.

One morning at 3 a.m. he got a call. Get to the airport to assist Mr. Hughes right away. Hughes had flown in and landed with engine trouble. He wanted the spark plugs changed. My dad went down and changed them in the dark on the field. (Not totally dark, but we are so spoiled with great lighting these days!)
"Fire it up," he told Hughes who had waited in the cockpit. The engine ran with a horrible vibration. Dad looked for a few seconds around the wiring with his flashlight, then turned and pointed it at the propellers in the dark.
"Shut it down Howard," he yelled. Hughes had clipped trees (he assumed) and lost the tip of one of the props.
"How long to replace the propeller?"
"Several hours," my dad answered.
"I'll just take that plane," Howard replied, pointing at an airliner on the tarmac.
"I think that one is flying in the morning," my dad said quietly.
"They'll get another," Hughes replied, walking to the other plane.

That plane was missing for years. It's thought no one had the nerve to ask him where he left it. It was eventually found on an airfield in Columbia, South America.

I'll tell another story tomorrow.