The farmland unfolds and slowly rolls out in front of you like the world’s most detailed model train set. It undulates a little, adding to the illusion that you’re walking on someone’s diorama rather than flying at 1,000 feet and 100 mph. Even if you don’t exactly know what alfalfa is or why they grow so much of it in places like Ames, Iowa, somehow, instinctively, you know it when you smell it from the open cockpit of a vintage biplane. Freshly cut, it smells earthy, with overtones of good, honest work.
From this vantage point, as waves of grain — amber and otherwise — ripple to the horizon under beautiful, spacious skies, it becomes almost impossible to tell what year it is. When framed by the wings of a near-century-old Travel Air, a more-than-century-old farmhouse could be brand new. Yes, the cars, and the smooth paved roads they drive on, give it away to a degree, but squint just a little and those contextual clues fade. You could be anywhere in time. Whoever first said that old airplanes are time machines was right, and they’re only proven more so as time goes on.
Paradoxically, showing someone that the country appears to have changed so little changes them a lot.
“What we deliver is happiness, and memories, and joy, and you see people change,” said Jill Manka, EAA 1179193, the self-described event producer of the 2018 American Barnstormers Tour. “They get on the aircraft one person, and every single person comes off of these ride airplanes a different person. … They’re learning the history and hearing the stories from the pilots, and their eyes light up and their perceptions change. … They see that aviation maybe isn’t what they thought it was.”
Barnstorming today is steeped in romance and jaunty nostalgia, offering people the chance to slip back in time and prove that this kind of aviation is still possible. Back in the golden age, an original barnstormer just wanted to prove that flying was possible, period. And, of course, to make a living in the process.
It Was News Before It Was History
When the Wright brothers made their successful first flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, in December 1903, it was the most profound, world-changing event of the 20th century, but it wasn’t reported as such. Initially, in part because of the Wrights’ attempts to protect their intellectual property, and in part because of widespread skepticism about aviation, it was hardly reported at all. The first accurate and in-depth accounting not only came from an obscure magazine for beekeepers — Gleanings in Bee Culture — but it didn’t happen until more than three months after their flight. This is impossible to fathom today when breaking news is tweeted instantly, or broadcast as it happens on Facebook Live. Other news sources at the time made small mention of how the “flying machine problem” appeared to have been solved by a couple of Ohioans, but that was about it.
About a dozen years later, World War I brought aviation into the news, as early aces fought high over the trenches and bombs rained down, first from zeppelins and then from ever-larger fixed-wing flying machines. When WWI ended in 1918, even the most hardened skeptics were forced to admit that flying was possible, but it remained a mysterious and inaccessible thing. And then the U.S. government started selling airplanes, specifically the Curtiss JN-4 Jenny. Nearly 7,000 were produced, largely as trainers, starting in 1915. After the war, they were sold as surplus for as little as $200. Pilots of the early 1920s, civilian and ex-military, snapped them up and began flying from town to town, usually putting on short air shows and selling rides. Eventually, co-opting a term that had been coined for itinerant, off-color theater troupes, the pilots became known as barnstormers.
Many of them, including Charles Lindbergh, who bought his Jenny and started barnstorming in 1923, worked primarily alone, following rivers and railroads through the Midwest, hopping rides and taking odd jobs as needed to make ends meet along the way. Before long, however, after Richthofen and before Monty Python, pilots banded together and started to form flying circuses and brought more organization and promotion to the barnstorming world. Groups like the 13 Black Cats and Mabel Cody’s Flying Circus, founded and run by Buffalo Bill’s niece, added things like wing walking and airplane-to-airplane transfers to a repertoire of aerobatics and parachute jumps to bring people out to their performances. Among the most successful was the Gates Flying Circus, founded by Ivan Gates and noted pilot Clyde Pangborn, which carried hundreds of thousands of passengers from 1921 through 1929, including 980 in a single day.
If WWI made aviation real to many people, then it was the 1920s — the era of the barnstormer — that made it accessible, not to mention wildly popular. Through the 1930s, with the widespread advent of commercial air travel, followed by the wider-spread advent of war, barnstorming faded into the background. Many of the early barnstormers focused on racing and record-setting, while others took up commercial flying. By the early 1940s, of course, many of them went off to war. But, even through the increasingly mundane world of airline travel and the grim realities of war, the spirit of barnstorming lingered, and still does, waiting patiently for those who would give it a try.
Bach Brings Barnstorming Back
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, prior to the overwhelming success of his book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, author Richard Bach wanted to try barnstorming himself. As documented in magazine articles, and especially in classic books like Nothing By Chance, which spawned a cult classic film,and the later Illusions, and stories anthologized in A Gift of Wings, Bach flew around the Midwest selling rides. Just as his forebears did some 40 years earlier, Bach would circle a small town and then land in a farmer’s field or, in a begrudging concession to modernity, at an airport.
Over the years, he eventually recruited a group of partners. They proved that you could make it work, selling rides for $3, or about $18 in 2018. Financially, the goal was only to survive, to make enough money to buy gas and oil, and to buy an occasional hamburger or a slice of pie in a small town diner. Eventually, Bach found that his adventure had become routine — he’d proven that a barnstormer could survive four or five decades after the golden age, so he settled down a little, put down some roots and focused on writing more books. His stories inspired a generation or two, resonating with pilots who secretly dreamed of dropping everything and getting out there and doing it. Richard’s son Rob, EAA 1015874, was one of those pilots and has barnstormed many times over the years when he’s not otherwise occupied with his airline career.
Going on Tour
Another pilot who got the bug is a man they call “Pork Chop,” otherwise known as Clay Adams from Lake Gold, Minnesota. Clay, EAA 729846, is a retired airline pilot whose passions are covered in the dope and fabric of vintage airplanes. He soloed when he was 16, flying a Piper Cub that his dad had bought from legendary U.S. Marine Corps ace Joe Foss in the late 1960s. Clay’s brother also soloed in that airplane and, years later, so did Clay’s son, now a third-generation commercial pilot. The airplane has been in the family some 50 years and, as far as Clay is concerned, always will be.
Clay owned a Hatz for a while, but back in the late ‘90s, he wanted to start a biplane ride business, so he started shopping. He came across a 1929 Travel Air E-4000 based in Hartford, Wisconsin, and, after proving himself to the seller who was pretty particular about who would be the next owner, bought it and restored it. In 1998, he started barnstorming and never stopped. To date, more than 3,000 of Clay’s 32,000 hours of flying are logged in that classic biplane. After 20 years with that airplane, Clay said that he’s occasionally thought about selling it, but never very seriously.
“My Travel Air has a soul,” he said. “We have a major connection. It takes care of me; I take care of it. … I know I could never get rid of it.”
After a few years of hopping rides on his own, Clay began longing to do something a little bit bigger. Putting together a tour was the next logical step.
“I like the Gates Flying Circus era,” he said. “I was always very intrigued by that. I thought, that’s what I want to do. I want to leave an impression of what we’ve done with this in the future compared to the past.”
In 2000, Clay started talking to some friends about putting a group together, but it remained just an idea until 2005 when he reached out to his friend Rob “Waldo” Lock. Rob is a retired professional basketball player who owns Waldo Wright’s Flying Service, selling rides in classic biplanes in Michigan in the summer and Florida in the winter. In 2006, they, along with fellow organizer Sarah “Pancho” Wilson, recruited more pilots and set out on the inaugural American Barnstormers Tour. That first year, as many as 17 airplanes toured five states, showing passengers firsthand what real flying — not to mention time travel — was all about. That’s also when Rob met Jill, and they’ve been together ever since. (For more on that first tour, see “The Great American Barnstormers Tour,” EAA Sport Aviation November 2006.) Over the next several years, the group flew three more tours with Clay as organizer, the last in 2012. But, as history persistently reminds us, barnstorming never lays dormant for long.
Six Years Later
In 2018, the time came to get the band back together, but Clay and company wanted to do something a little different this time. This year’s tour was organized specifically around the Travel Air, as a way to honor the company’s unique contributions to aviation history. This meant that every stop would become a potentially record-setting gathering of the type, though not all of them were used to sell rides, culminating in a dozen Travel Airs, including EAA’s own ride-hopping 1929 E-4000, gathering at EAA AirVenture Oshkosh for the end of the tour.
In addition to Clay and Rob, other Travel Air pilots included Mike “Yosemite Sam” Rinker, EAA 680391, of Tennessee who brought his 1932 B-14-B that he used in aerobatic displays where possible during the tour. Mike also brought his Grumman Goose to AirVenture and gave plenty of rides in that, too. Jared “Tex” Calvert came from Texas in his 1927 4000 that he’s owned since 2015. It was originally built as a 2000, with an OX-5, but was upgraded to a 300-hp radial in the late 1930s. Jared, 31, is the self-described “young guy” on the tour and uses the airplane to raise money to support his home base, Ranger Antique Airfield (F23), a grass strip that dates back to 1911.
David “Candy Man” Mars, EAA 507610, who, like Clay, has been on every American Barnstormers Tour since the beginning, is in his fifth decade of selling rides and has flown more than 15,000 passengers in that time. For the 2018 tour, he came from Mississippi in his 1929 Travel 4000. Thomas “Axle” Leaver, EAA 1154736, flew a 1928 D-4000 on the tour, painted in the colors it wore when it served with Pacific Air Transport, a forerunner to United Air Lines. Thomas is a Californian living in England and shipped his airplane from Henstridge, England, to participate.
On the other hand, Brian “Biggles” Shepherd, EAA 1270649, is an Englishman who lives in California, regularly hopping rides in his 1929 B-4000. Brian could be considered a poster boy for successfully inspiring people to fly. Back in 2003, he gave a ride to a successful motorcycle mechanic named Keith Kossuth, who was so inspired that he learned to fly. Keith, now known as “ATIS,” bought a 1928 Travel Air 4000 and, before this year’s tour, flew it a staggering 8,000 miles from the Greek island of Crete to Cape Town, South Africa, as part of the VintageAirRally.
Pedro “Rambler” Langton was another who not only participated in the VintageAirRally, flying his 1928 E-4000, but also won it. When the tour was over, everyone else dismantled their airplanes and shipped them back to the starting point, but Pedro decided to fly back the way he came. Rounding out the 2018 tour is Richard “Tail Hook” Zeiler, EAA 1144405, who brought two Travel Airs, the Sky Siren and the Sun Siren, a pair of D-4-D sister ships built in 1929. Since he couldn’t fly both of the airplanes at once, Glenn “Lucky” Frith, EAA 815356, joined the tour, taking a break from his day job as the owner of a charter outfit in Naples, Florida.
The pilots are also joined by an army of helpers who keep things running smoothly on the ground. One of them is Clay’s daughter, Skye, who’s a professional graphic designer when she’s not hawking biplane rides.
“That’s the one thing I love about the whole deal, is working with my daughter on this tour,” Clay said. “She’s been on every tour since 2006. She does the stuff I don’t want to do, put it that way.”
Skye wryly agreed with her dad’s description.
“I do all the hard work and he gets to fly his plane, so we’re both happy,” she said with a smirk.
A Real Production
While Clay laid out the itinerary and selected the venues, which included Jefferson City, Missouri; Ames, Iowa; Watertown, South Dakota; Brainerd, Minnesota; and Eau Claire, Wisconsin, the second change to the tour came when he asked Jill to help run things.
“I come from the event production industry in entertainment,” Jill said. “I used to work with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, Disney on Ice, etc. … My role was to execute all the behind the scenes stuff, to coordinate with the venues, to market the event, to take care of the pilots, to get the sponsorship secured. And we had such wonderful support from the industry with this tour. I was overwhelmed at the kindness that the industry showed the tour.”
Original barnstormers landed in hay fields and hung a hand-painted bed sheet over a fence. They didn’t have the vinyl banners, lighted signs, glossy brochures, iPads to charge credit cards, tables, clipboards, and schedules, not to mention forms full of sterile legalese that were evident at every 2018 tour stop. Some would call those things necessary evils today, but most would call them simply necessary. Besides, it’s not unreasonable to think that any hard-scrabble pilot barnstorming his way across the country clawing for a few bucks on the eve of the Great Depression would have welcomed absolutely anything that would bring more customers. Except maybe the paperwork.
The abundance of modern conveniences may seem to temper the wistful allure of wind-in-the-wires flying, but once a person climbs into the open cockpit of a Travel Air, their experience is virtually unchanged from that of the passengers who bought rides 90 years ago. Admittedly, they wear headsets with intercoms and share Instagram selfies midflight, risking their phones in the process (see sidebar), but the view of the countryside between the wings of a biplane remains pristine. The sounds, the wind, the smells, the light trembling in your stomach in the low-g of a gentle wingover, none of these things have been touched by paved runways, volumes of regulations, or anything else that passes for nearly a century or progress. The airplane doesn’t care what year it is, any more than the bright red barns neatly dotting the farms below do. And, after a minute or two in the air, neither do the passengers.
One of them, a 12-year-old future airline pilot named Isaac Madsen, EAA 1292069, was ready to go again after his first Travel Air flight.
“[It was] very fun, very enjoyable,” he said. “I’d definitely do it millions of times more.”
Vicki John, who works for the Iowa Beef Industry Council, almost didn’t take a ride. She came to the tour stop in Ames, Iowa, because her husband wanted to go.
“I had no intention of going,” Vicki said. “I was just going to let him go, but he talked me into it, and I’m glad he did. It gives you a whole different perspective.”
A retired mail carrier named Marie Edwards loved her flight, too. Although, it had some unintended consequences.
“It kinda ruins you for regular planes,” she said. “You’re out in the open and it’s like, ‘Wow.’”
Her dad was an underwater demolitions expert in World War II and learned to fly after the war. Her Travel Air flight brought him to mind.
“I never flew with him, which is sad,” she said. “He did all that back when he was younger. But I kind of feel like I’m closer to him up there, too, ‘cause he’s gone now.”
Over the course of the tour, more than 30,000 people came out to see the airplanes — not including those who came to AirVenture — and more than 2,000 of them took rides. From a little girl in a princess dress and a tiara to a woman who was taking her second biplane ride 90 years after her first, more than 2,000 lives were profoundly altered in just two-and-a-half weeks.
Of course, it’s not just the passengers who come away changed after a flight with a barnstormer.
“It really is eye-opening for the pilots and for the owners as well,” Jill said. “Because you see how much work there is out there for us to still do to touch people and to draw people, and to get rid of misconceptions that the masses have about aviation.” True, the masses have a lot to learn about aviation. Not TSA-and-tin-tube-travel, but aviation — real flying. And what better way to learn than in the open cockpit of a biplane?