Airport Journals


Vengeance is Mine (Sayeth the Ford)	Aug '05

By Cliff Robertson

As a lad growing up in La Jolla, Calif., I attended church most Sundays. It was a cardinal obeisance to the Lord, the church and my grandmother. All three were not to be ignored. All three reigned supreme in that sleepy little town of 4,000—at least in our house. Yet in most matters, Grandmother Willingham was a warm, forgiving, charitable—even dare I say liberal?—lady. A staunch believer in the work ethic, a staunch believer that all—including we children—should learn the values of strong family—strong church and strong nubile backs.

These ethics, like education, were not to be dismissed. And if, at the evening dinner table, they were slighted in the least, we youngsters were dismissed—summarily! Such were the rules—the Cardinal Rules. The Bible, or course, was sacrosanct—and to a youngster, at times frightening. One frightening phrase hovered over my raffish towhead: "Revenge is mine sayeth the Lord." I was never quite sure what the Good Lord was vengeful about. But I was sure I never wanted to exact his wrath. Such was the beginning of a Calvinist guilt that fused my young soul and conscience at a very early age in that very innocent town of 4,000.

Some things never change much—too much. Evident by the residual guilt that hovers over my faux-sophisticated head even today. And over the littlest misdemeanors imaginable. The magazine I forgot to return to the dentist office rack. The waitress I forgot to tip at the dinner 80 miles back. To thank my favorite junior high teacher—now deceased. And on and on.

And then the inanimate things! Yes—inanimate! My corner bed table that I continue to curse at 4:00 a.m. in the nocturnal visits to the loo. Why? Because it's continually in the way of my favorite big toe! Not to mention my bedroom slippers that slip off—more readily than on—during those midnight travels. And the sliding rug that is determined to send me to the bathroom floor. Such is the inanimate conspiracy. To trip me up and down and to riddle my self-confidence even more than before.

I truly believe there is a mysterious spirit that dictates this malfeasance. Witness what conspires when I plan to get rid of these enemies: Suddenly I see on "T.V. Antiques Show" my grandmother's corner bed table is worth an unexpected tidy sum! As is the slippery carpet. And the slippers were a forgotten gift from a never-forgotten lady friend!! These items are apparently all possessed with a soul of their own. And are conspiring in some kind of fidelity test—that I have nearly failed!

And then the Ford! I am the proud owner of an English racing green Mustang convertible G.T.—circa 1966. Total 54,000 precious miles. Mint condition. Recently—in a hurry—I cursed it shamefully because it coughed repeatedly in summer traffic. How dare it after 40 years! Of course, the fact that I had left the choke knob on after the cold-morning start might have contributed to its cough!

Which brings me to my beautiful Beechcraft Baron. This 58 model twin has flown me safely since its birth in 1978, like its predecessor, a 55 model. It has carried me across the country many times—without a cough. In spite of its continued fidelity, I must admit falling in love with my friend Rick Adam's beautiful new push-pull twin—recently christened by the FAA with glowing reviews. A true winner. I must admit that during the awards ceremony at Centennial Airport in June, when this Journal honored Rick, I obsessively lusted over this wonderful new airplane. Should I? Never mind my World Ward II vintage collection. Should I? Thankfully the waiting list is long. I resisted—for now.

As soon as I returned east, I raced to my Baron 58, patted its nose, started the two continental engines, taxied out to the East Hampton runway, ran my checks and lifted off for the yonder blue. So happy I was so lucky. So grateful. And mindful I (with apologies to "Peanuts") have never cursed my "yellow" Baron and never ever will!

P.S. I'll be flying my Baron back to Dayton for the annual National Aviation Hall of Fame presentation and later back to Oshkosh to speak at EAA AirVenture. I would ask my readers not to mention my affection for the Adam A500 aircraft in the presence of my Baron. "Hell hath no fury like a lady scorned!"

Copyright 2005

Academy Award and Emmy Award winning screen star Cliff Robertson has owned and flown a wide array of aircraft, including a Spitfire MK IX, a Messerschmitt ME-108, a French aerobatic Stampe SV4 biplane, a Grob Astir glider (in which he still holds a distance record) and a Beech Baron 58. A holder of single, multi, instrument and commercial licenses, as well as balloon, the pilot of many thousands of hours has accumulated many aviation awards, including EAA's highest Eagle award and the AOPA Sharples award. Cliff was recently voted and honored as the Veteran of the Year by the American Veteran Association. His columns will appear in his soon-to-be published book.