AOPA Pilot Magazine - April 2014 - 16

PROFICIENT PILOT

Those good old days

BY BARRY SCHIFF

Remembering forgotten airports

BARRY SCHIFF

started flying
in 1952 at the
age of 14.

16 | AOPA PILOT April 2014

I SOMETIMES FEEL SORRY for younger pilots who read
this column. Their loyalty to this page has required
them to endure my repeated references to the good old
days. But recalling a bygone era does little more than
allow us older pilots to recall with nostalgia and sentimentality times that were not necessarily as wonderful
as we would like to think they were. After all, it was
not so wonderful getting lost every once in a while-or
going deaf listening through lousy earphones and loud
static to the endless stream of dit-dahs and dah-dits
from four-course, low-frequency radio ranges. Nor was
there anything so wonderful about having to wait for
scheduled weather broadcasts to hear a report and not
learning about the possibility of thunderstorms along
your route of flight until you were surrounded by them.
It would have been so wonderful at times during
those good old days to have had moving maps, real-time
weather displays, satellite communications and navigation, and attitude information that was not reliant on
vacuum pumps and electromechanical instrumentation.
In so many ways, then, are not these the better days?
Yes and no.
During the years following World War II, there were
numerous airports that were destinations unto themselves, places developed for the sole purpose of enticing
wandering aviators to drop in from the sky. One such
place and my all-time favorite was Palm Desert Airpark.
In 1946, a Los Angeles architect, Hank L. Gogerty,
purchased a few hundred acres of desert about 10 miles
southeast of Palm Springs, California. There he sculpted
and groomed a pair of beautifully manicured grass runways shaped like a pair of emerald scissors. The longest
was 3,000 feet long and occasionally used for polo.
Overnight accommodations at the airpark initially
consisted of war-surplus barracks that Gogerty had
trucked in from Beaumont, 40 miles to the west. In 1951,
though, he heralded the opening of his Desert Air Hotel,
a true oasis complete with individual cottages, a pool, a
dining room, and a fabulous watering hole that attracted
pilots from near and far. During its heyday, there could
be as many as a hundred visiting airplanes parked at
Palm Desert on holiday weekends. Many belonged to
Hollywood celebrities, politicians, royalty, and other
notables seeking escape.
My first of many flights to Palm Desert occurred
when I was a 20-year-old college student. My date and
I flew there from Santa Monica, California, in a rented

Cessna 140, one in which I also worked as a part-time
flight instructor. I parked our airplane next to the
North American Navion owned by famed entertainer
and ventriloquist, Edgar Bergen. His dummy, Charlie
McCarthy, sat motionless in the right seat, as if guarding
the aircraft. I have always regretted not having taken a
photograph (on film!) of that delightful sight.
We stepped out of the taildragger and onto the cool
grass in our bare feet, wearing bathing suits, sunglasses,
and baseball caps. There were no gates, fences, or other
security measures. We strolled 100 feet to our reserved
poolside table where cold drinks and hors d'oeuvres
were already waiting.
I had warned my companion before departing Santa
Monica about the vagaries of desert weather and how
it was possible that unexpected changes could require
us to spend the night there. While sipping iced tea at
the pool and dutifully cogitating the state of the sky, I
debated whether the small, lone cumulus cloud floating
overhead could be used as an excuse to force a departure
delay until the next morning. I certainly would not have
been the first male to engage in such subterfuge. But I
could not bring myself to take advantage of my authority as pilot in command. There were two other reasons I
could not do that. The first was that the little cloud dissipated rather quickly, and no others formed to replace
it. The second was that I could not afford the cost of a
room at Palm Desert. It was easy to be chivalrous.
At certain times of the year, large clusters of dates
fell from palm trees on the far side of the runways.
Visitors were encouraged to take home all they could
pick up and carry. They also were cautioned not to overload their aircraft on hot days.
Like so many other airports, Palm Desert Airpark
fell victim to escalating real-estate prices and was gobbled up by land developers in 1968. Today the property
is occupied by the Rancho Las Palmas Resort.
There were many other such fly-in destinations
that no longer exist, and the sad reality is that virtually no other airports were developed to replace them.
The same is true of almost every airport forced to close
for whatever reason. There used to be so many more
places from which pilots could reach for the sky. Every
time an airport closes, those good old days look better
and better.
AOPA
WEB

www.barryschiff.com

http://www.barryschiff.com

AOPA Pilot Magazine - April 2014

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of AOPA Pilot Magazine - April 2014