| by |
William Scherer |
I was in the middle of cooking spaghetti the other
night when the phone rang. It was Patty Wagstaff, the first lady
of Aviation! "So what did he have to say?," she quickly
blurted out. Patty was referring to the fact that I had interviewed
her arch rival, Sean D. Tucker, earlier that day about their upcoming
aerobatics showdown at Oshkosh. How she could have found out
that I had spoken with him is still a mystery. Apparently the
two camps are not very friendly and there are spies everywhere.
"Patty, he said you were delightful and a joy
to work with", I assured her. "But what did he really
mean?", she quickly came back. I bit my lip. Of course I
couldn't tell her, the three-times U.S. National Aerobatics
Champion, that Sean D. Tucker had planned to humiliate her in
front of the thousands of spectators at Oshkosh with his hair
raising, dare devil maneuvers. "Well... he just stated that
you were a woman and that he was a man and that men ought to treat
women with respect". She yelled, "Now I'm really
mad!". I started to shake. What Sean had really said was
that a woman's place is in the kitchen, not near dangerous
airplanes where they might get hurt... Help! I couldn't
tell her that. And my spaghetti was boiling over onto the stovetop!
After a moment, she charmingly asked, "Does
he have any new maneuvers planned with that... two winged, weed
wacker of his!?"
I thought to myself, surely she couldn't be
referring to Sean's specially made "1-800-Collect"
beauty. She quickly added, "Do you realize he got parts from
junkyards to put that diaper draped airplane of his together?"
Well, she was right in a way. The "1-800-Collect"
has a Delmar Benjamin cowl, an Eagle One fuselage, Curtis Pitts
wings and a Laser Tail. Maybe Sean was short of cash at the time...
or maybe he just wanted the best aerobatics plane around. I didn't
know and he wasn't there to defend himself. "Patty,
that plane is awesome," I said. "With over 380 horsepower,
it has enough power to do anything, even fly backwards. Why when
he goes through his Double Hammerhead..."
"Bill," she quickly interjected, "let
me tell you about a real airplane. One that's not make of
paper and bolts. Why my BFGoodrich Aerospace Extra 300 is state
of the art! Bar none. We're talking about an airframe made
of high-temperature epoxy prepreg carbon fiber and E-glass structures.
Some of the maneuvers it allows me to do would make Mr. Sean D.,
himself, get dizzy." Hmmm. Sean had told me about her plane.
Plastic, is what he called it... and with only one wing. He told
me a plane with one wing is like a bicycle with training wheels.
After mastering it, a real aerobatics pilot always moved up to
the demanding Bi-plane.
"Patty, you're a legend. Why the worry?
Don't you always win these competitions?" I could
feel her smiling on the other end. "Well, I just do my best...and
let the people decide." I swallowed hard. Sean told me the
only reason she wins is because of those golden locks of hers,
flapping in the breeze. It gets the women clapping and the men
swooning. This year he was thinking of wearing a wig when they
meet... with even more curls than hers. Sean promised me, "Bill,
I'm gonna do whatever it takes to beat her this year."
When I had left him earlier in the day he had already run ten
miles in combat boots and was finishing up on his four hundredth
sit-up.
"Patty," I asked, "are you preparing
in any special way for your match up at Oshkosh, like... doing
sit-ups?"
"I sat up this morning... when I got out of
bed." A giggle emerged from the other end of the phone.
"Other than that, same-o, same-o."
I was amazed. Here was one of the top pilots in the
world and she relied on "same-o, same-o" to give her
that edge! I had to find out what "same-o" was and
tell Sean. In the meanwhile, his regime for Oshkosh the past
two months was to get up each morning at 5 am, eat a powerbar,
then run until 6 am. After eating another power bar, he would
chop wood until 8:30. Breakfast consisted of four raw eggs in
a glass.
Patty's voice lit up, "I might show up
with a tan...." She giggled again. I couldn't believe
it! "But Patty, surely you must be doing something to get
ready for this historical showdown?" "Hmm," she
replied. "Let me think."
At 9 am Sean ties a rope around his body and proceeds
to pull his truck laded with 25 migrant farm workers up and down
runway 31 at Salinas to build strength in his legs.
At 10 am Colleen, his wife, hoses him off and helps
him step into his Bi-plane. Sean then performs his routine three
times with a hood on, before settling down to lunch consisting
of three celery sticks and two pieces of sushi... followed by
a power bar, of course.
Patty spoke up again, "I might change to a different
shade of lipstick... to match my cowling." I was astounded.
"Patty! Surely, you must be making other preparations than
that! I mean, after all, you are about to face the Sean D. Tucker
himself! Most other pilots would be shaking in their knees!"
"Hmm, maybe you have a point". I shook my head. I
didn't mean to raise my voice but... Sean's out to humiliate
her in front of the world and she's got to be prepared!
Or at least, make a good showing.
At 1:30 pm Sean's crew hangs him upside down
from the airport FAA tower railing so he can experience blood
lost for those extended "G" maneuvers. At Salinas, the
landing pilots have done away with "airport in sight"
and now refer to it as "Sean in sight". At 3 pm they
cut him down and stuff him back into his plane where he then performs
his routine three more times... two while blindfolded and one
while pouring ice tea from a pitcher.
The phone came alive. "I've been considering...
a new hairstyle for Osh." I shook my head in anguish. I
thought to myself, this woman is so good... so confident, no wonder
Sean's so determined. "Patty, you are something else,"
is all I could say.
At 4:00 pm Sean is pulled out of his plane and given
another power bar. He then jogs five miles out to the Salinas
outer marker where his crew removes his shirt and shoes. For the
next two hours he rounds up rattlesnakes with his bare hands.
The ordeal heightens his reactions, he informs me— better for
doing his famous "Triple Ribbon Cut". When he sees
a snake slithering in the brush, he yells out, "Patty...
I'm a comin'."
"Is Mister Sean D. possibly... preparing in
any special way this year?" she asked over the phone. Oh
my goodness! Help! The million dollar question! Of course,
as an unbiased reporter I could only mumble, "I'm...
not quite sure."
At 6:15, though near exhaustion, Sean is hosed off
and transported on the back of a flat bed truck to the Monterey
Karate Studio where he practices breaking 2X4's with the
front of his head. The practice, he insists, improves his neck
muscles for snap rolls and Lomcevaaks.
"Bill... I'm waiting," Patty suggested
calmly. I didn't know what to say. I just couldn't
tell her that Sean's flying was now bordering perfection
and that he was coming to Oshkosh with "the eye of the tiger",
ready to redeem man from the savagery of her victories. I had
to think of something quick. I tried to think of the most outrageous,
stupidest preparation idea I could imagine to throw her off track.
"Patty, Sean mentioned.... that he might be
using different color smoke this year. Pink and lavender, I believe
is what he said. To... appeal more to the women in the crowd."
I quickly added, "But of course his crew talked him out
of it as it would hurt his image as a studly and powerful barnstormer".
The receiver went silent. I thought to myself, wow, that was
close! I had changed the subject without exposing Sean's
unearthly preparations. I hadn't let on about the new and
improved Sean B. Tucker, Pilot of the Gods.
But then it suddenly occurred to me— lavender and
pink were beautiful colors. They would set the crowd on fire.
Now if Patty were to use... Oh, no! What have I done? What
if...
"Bill!" her voice erupted. "What
a fantastic idea! I've been looking for a new... something
for my routine and that's it! I'm so excited! In fact—
that gives me an idea for a whole new maneuver. One that's
never been done before in the history of aviation! The crowd
at Osh is gonna go wild! Thank you soooo much. I owe you one."
The phone went dead.
My body went limp. I collapsed into my spaghetti
sauce on the floor.
At 9:15 Sean is hosed off and transported home. He
is fed one last power bar. Sat in front of his TV, he watches
Rocky I through VI before being carried to his bed of logs and
brush in the garage. With soothing words, Colleen covers him with
burlap bags and kisses him goodnight. As his eyes close, Sean
manages one last smile and mumbles , "Patty, I'm gonna
get you."
May the best plane win—paper or plastic.
The Reality Was No Gunfight
Patty Wagstaff and Sean Tucker held their first joint
air show today at EAA's AirVenture Oshkosh to a respectful crowd
of airplane fans. It seemed that the most appreciative in the
crowd were those who probably also frequent professional wrestling
matches. The show hyped the "competition" much like
Gorgeous George and Dennis Rodman do, but with less excitement.
Each performer had an announcer who presumed to represent
why their pilot was the best—male versus female, white airplane
versus black airplane, two wings versus one, Florida versus California,
etc., etc., ad nauseum. In actuality, Sean and Patty are close
friends and their only sense of competition is for sponsors and
crowds. The ersatz contest certainly didn't reflect the serious
competition in which aerobatic pilots engage sponsored by the
International Aerobactic Club. There, formal rules, figures,
and judges help to determine the "best."
While many present at OSH seemed to enjoy the show,
we heard a lot more grumbling. In general, aviation enthusiasts
noted time and again that they'd prefer to see the air show performers
continue to do what they do best—displaying their skills with
excitement and style—not low-rent theatrics and announcers
who turn off all but the wrestling loyal. Patty and Sean are
two of the very best pilots in the world and time and again we
heard folks comment that they should not lower themselves to the
level of carnival performers.
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