If I were to ask you the tail number of the aircraft you had your first solo in, I am sure you could recall it. The same goes for that feeling one has on their first solo cross-country. You feel as if you are about to embark on a great adventure — something many who pursue a career in aviation dream of. For many of us, it is what first drew us to flying. Arnold Ebneter, EAA 450548, is one such pilot who planned for decades, and eventually took that great adventure.
Arnold grew up Mt. Vernon, Wisconsin. Not far from his house was Donald’s Rock, which was a landmark for airliners of the time as they would fly over the area. Because of this, Arnold became inspired by the Ford Tri-Motors flying around a landmark on his family property.
“There was a local Fall Frolic Festival in town and a barnstormer had arrived to sell rides,” Arnold said. “It was $1 per person. My dad had a spare $2 and negotiated with the pilot to take me, my baby brother, and himself up for the $2. We took off out of a field next to the golf course.”
Arnold’s second flight came years later when he was 15 years old.
“I would save up the money to go for another flight in Portage, Wisconsin, in a J-3 Cub,” he recalled. “I had worked in a restaurant and saved up about $20 and decided I would use that to start after getting my license. Chet Mael ran the flight school. … I rented a 1939 J-3 Cub economy model. It had no brakes. It was $8 an hour for dual and $7 solo.”
After flying for 8 hours, Arnold was given an endorsement that he was safe to solo, but he couldn’t because he was still just 15. On April 2, 1943, he finally got his chance to fly alone.
“I … remember that the plane was flying very well without the extra person in it. I found it odd that I could see the forward stick from the back seat. Something I had never seen before.”
At the time of his solo, Arnold had 11 hours — and a job at the local airport where he saw aircraft coming back from the war effort.
“The war was winding down and surplus aircraft like early PTs as well as T-6s were coming up for grabs,” he said. “There were some early Civilian Pilot Training Program Cubs up for grabs. They were in pretty bad shape.”
Nonetheless, Chet purchased a few and Arnold learned how to re-cover an airplane. In fact, that was the foundation of him working to earn his airframe and powerplant certificate.
Arnold attended Texas A&M University and graduated with a degree in engineering. His senior project was based on designing an aircraft that would set an endurance record.
“I had read about a pilot in Finland who had taken an aerobatic airplane and set the record,” he said. “What always had me thinking is that I could design an aircraft specifically for the record attempt, not modify something which already existed.”
Arnold went to work designing the E-1, and was surprised along the way by some data.
“I figured it would need some very long wings. However, what I found was that the max aspect ratio was about 10-to-1,” Arnold said. “There was a very clear choice to go this route for optimal performance.”
Eventually, Arnold joined the U.S. Air Force.
“Going into the military training program with 1,300 hours sure made things a lot easier; however, the E-1 would have to wait. I graduated close to the top of my class,” he said.
Coming out of training Arnold flew the North American F-86 Sabre and later the F-100 Super Sabre. He also met a young lady named Colleen and before long they were setting a date.
For the next 24 years Arnold served in the USAF before going to work for Boeing. While at Boeing, he was assigned to build a database of all aircraft accidents and their related causes, and then come up with what the goals should be for flight safety standards. After his time at Boeing came to an end, he finally had time to get back at the E-1.
In the early 1990s Arnold visited Oshkosh and was re-inspired to work on his airplane again and go after the record.
“I jumped back in to it — started researching all of my data from Texas A&M,” he said. “One thing that would become much easier for the record attempt is my location. I was now living on the West Coast in Seattle. So I was already at a starting point.”
As construction started, Arnold had access to discarded materials at the Boeing Surplus store south of Seattle, material that he knew would be great for the E-1. Finally, in 2009, Arnold and his E-1 were ready for a first flight.
“That first one was a little hectic,” Arnold said. “The first landing was a bit strange as the aircraft has a high wing loading. So I had a bounce or two.”
After years of planning, it was time to make his epic record-breaking flight. At 2:15 p.m. on July 25, 2010, Arnold took off from Paine Field in Everett, Washington, and headed east. During the climb to 9,500 feet, his fuel flow and quantity gauges failed. For the next 18 hours, he would have to mentally calculate his fuel usage. As the midnight hour came, it started to get quiet.
“I was amazed at how quiet it got. Even ATC had nothing for me. It was a very lonely feeling,” Arnold said. “I remember it was around 1 a.m. that ATC said flight following canceled, squawk 1200!”
Around daybreak Arnold started calculating the numbers and was assured that he had more than enough fuel to make it to his destination airport where the Fédération Aéonautique Internationale official, Art Greenfield, was awaiting his arrival. That destination airport was Fredericksburg, Virginia. As he landed and the wheels touched the soil once again, he felt a sense of accomplishment.
“After all of these years I finally was able to do this. And it worked,” Arnold said. His first words out of the cockpit were, “I am never doing that again!” Arnold had flown more 2,327 miles on that flight, setting a record for a landplane in the E-1’s weight class.
In the fall of 2016, the E-1 was graciously donated to the EAA Aviation Museum. It now resides in a place of honor among other record holders including the Lesher Teal. Last month Arnold came to pay the museum a visit along with his daughter Eileen Bjorkman, who has written a book about the history of homebuilding and her father’s career in flying named The Propeller Under the Bed. When asked what it was like to see his aircraft in the museum Arnold replied, “It is like seeing an old friend and saying, ‘Here we are together again.’”