Texas State Historical Association - My Texas

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Solo Flight Surprise

We had been married nearly ten years, totally focused on establishing a river-bottom farm and homeplace on the Red River. It was a tremendous amount of work to reclaim an area that had been purchased and used by the U.S. government for Camp Howze, an army training facility, during World War II. The family farm was bought back after the camp was dismantled in 1946. Our location was Warrens Bend in Cooke County, Texas, twenty-five miles from Gainesville. Jay Pybas and I came straight from Oklahoma A&M, where we met and married, to start our farming and cattle business and our family. Gifted with God-granted energy and a rural work ethic, we were pleased with our progress and production.

By the summer of 1958, things were going great: cattle prices were better, good rains had come after several dry years, four baby daughters had been born, and Jay was probably ready for a diversion. We were healthy, happy, and optimistic.

His new direction was learning to fly. After hanging around the airport and hearing tales from several pilots, he found the opportunity. James Whaley had been a flight instructor in World War II and was back farming on his family farm west of Gainesville. He was also managing the Gainesville airport, where there were a few single-engine planes hangared. They became friends and James agreed to teach him for two dollars a lesson. He even helped Jay find an old P-A 12 Super Cruiser for the princely sum of twelve hundred dollars.

What a beautiful little red and white tail-dragger, with an extra-wide wingspan and gliding ability. It had a 110-horsepower engine and was stick-controlled, with room behind the pilot for two passengers if they were small. Although his lessons were at the airport, Jay soon put up a shed on the river-bottom farm to keep the little plane. He took off across the pasture for some flying time each day. I would load up the babies in the pickup and watch him take off, and later pick him up after he buzzed the house.

Jay was having so much fun he talked me into taking flying lessons as a backup so we could fly together. James Whaley agreed to take me as a student. We took the Piper Cruiser back to the airport until I was checked out as a student pilot. I was truly excited and eager. James sat in the back with a dual stick in case he needed to make a physical correction, still chewing on an unlit cigar. He was a man of few words and calm demeanor but specific in instruction. I was his only woman student at that time.

Fortunately a neighbor girl, out of school for the summer, was available to stay with my babies each morning while I hurried to the airport for flight lessons. It was a great experience spending time in the process, studying and in the air. It was best to fly early as updrafts increased as the temperature rose with the summer sun. They would bounce the little plane around and took considerable concentration. Sometimes among the cumulus clouds a draft would lift the plane suddenly, only to drop it unexpectedly, requiring alertness and control.

My instructor put me through the eight hours required for soloing. We practiced takeoffs and landings, turns and banks, and a stall recovery. I learned every inch of the plane and the engine. I read all the controls, especially the altimeter and tachometer. However, this little plane did not have a radio, so the flights were all VFR (visual flight rules). I had to be knowledgeable about correct flight paths and elevation.

James did not tell in advance that he would solo a student. One beautiful October morning he said to me, "Okay, you're ready." I could hardly believe it. All my study and practice would have to serve me now. Wearing a dirndl skirt and sleeveless top, I walked out to the little plane and unfastened the tie-downs. I breathed a little prayer, asking for guidance, knowing that I was in God's hands.

I did all the checks--prop, engine, fuel--the same as with each routine lesson flight. I looked at James for an okay. He hardly had any more instructions. I taxied out onto the apron, centered on the downwind runway. Taking a deep breath I pushed the stick forward, accelerating, faster, faster into the rush of wind and felt the lift, up, up, and away. What a joyous feeling! What a gorgeous day; fluffy cumulus clouds and a blue sky. Circling, I headed out toward the Red River and over our place. The wheat fields were a brilliant green. The red-brown channel snaked its way around two river bends. Perfectly at ease and happy, I performed turns and banks and swept down over our friends Charlie and Grace Bush's farm. I made a wide perimeter, enjoying the patchwork scenery below. Then I realized I had been out longer than I had anticipated so I headed back to the airport. I circled for the downwind leg and made my final approach. The touchdown was a little bumpy but soon caught and I taxied smoothly. As I approached the apron, there were James and my husband Jay. Both seemed to have a somewhat serious, concerned expression. They had expected my solo to be much shorter and had a few qualms and fearful minutes wondering if I had trouble.

I climbed down the step and waved as they approached. "We were beginning to worry about you," Jay mumbled. But James was nodding, as if approving my performance.

I decided that this was not the time to tell them the surprise news that I was pregnant again with baby number five. I would save and savor that information until the next trip.

Barbara Pybas
Gainesville, Texas
Published: November 14, 2005