For Openers
There is more involved in "The Art of Thinking Big" (Lee Taylor, page 8) than has been brought out so far in anything published in MA or its contemporaries. In the subhead, or blurb, that introduces Lee's fine article the word "different" appears several times. Construction, powerplants, and flying techniques are different. But the biggest difference of all must be attitude. With the bigger, heavier, more powerful models comes a new kind of responsibility. What is the pilot thinking when he prepares to take off his 18-foot, 75-pound Champion? (There was such a ship at Toledo.) Or even a Quadra-powered one-third scale Pitts.
With a Senior Falcon, or even a Phoenix, one merely assures himself the frequency is clear, taxis out, lines up—knowing where the spectators and pit are located—and enjoys the freedom of the skies. With a "monster" he has other sensations as well. The immense amount of work, and perhaps cost to match, must make him sober-minded beyond anything he has experienced before. Is everything really OK? Is there anything that might get in the way? What will he do once the ship is in the air and cruise is established? From where will he approach and how—and with all those things on the ground in mind. Perhaps his first thought is not to dent his marvelous machine. He becomes—or should become—conservative. He senses this in every movement of a stick. He knows he must govern his air space from takeoff to touchdown in such a way that he won't uproot a parked car, tangle with a tree, or position his crate anywhere close to people.
AMA fliers have amassed a fantastic safety record. On every weekend tens of thousands of RC pilots make an astronomical number of flights under an automatic self-discipline. We shall continue to do so. But it may be well for the builder of the big, or fast, model, to condition himself to think like a real airplane owner/pilot. Would he fly the machine if he were required to ride in it? Oh, of course, he can't ride in it, but we refer to attitude. We already check our models before every flying session. For big models this should become like the pilot's traditional "walk around." Before the first flight examine every facet of the ship with a mechanic's view. Before each flight, perform the equivalent of the walk-around.
Deep in the full-scale pilot's mind is the constant awareness that he should never take a chance. If he is not instrument sharp, he stays out of weather. If he is not skilled at, or equipped for, night flying, he won't chance a race against darkness. He knows he must be capable of "staying ahead" of the ship, and should not chance flying a plane that could get ahead of him. One may "run a red light" with your car, but you don't risk your neck in the air. May we suggest this rule? Just before you open the throttle on any airplane, say to yourself: "I owe this hobby . . ." If that gives you a twinge, find out why, and get your act together. BEFORE you let it go.
HANK CLARK, WHOSE wonderful cutaway drawings MA has been privileged to publish (see pages 16-17), is a challenge to any would-be biographer. We've wanted to introduce him for months now, but he comes on so much larger than life—like a Jim Walker or a Cal Smith—that our typewriter turns chicken. Now 64, he builds models like crazy, owns and flies an ancient Cub on floats. He designs houses, boats, and sells plans all over the world. He illustrates for books, newspapers, magazines. He's also into railroading. Talking with him is like trying to hold a conversation with the O'Hare tower.
Like many oldtimers, he was inspired by Lindbergh. And like so many of us, he rode his bike to airports (NY) and model meets (to see Max Basset, he sez) as far as 40 miles from home. With a 616 camera he amassed 3,500 negatives of now "classic" airplanes and sold photos through the mail. He spent WW II with Grumman doing art for Navy manuals—on the side selling his own lithos of combat aircraft. Specializing in how-to art of all descriptions, Hank freelanced with Mechanix Illustrated for 10 years; with the parent company, Fawcett, for 30 years.
He bought a 37-hp Aeronca K, after 75 hours giving it to the local CAP. Designed 10 boats—six hand-built in the garage. In 1960 he designed and scratch-built a large lake cottage on Lake George, NY—and, of course, sold the plans. He travels between it and his north Jersey home in his 1947 Cub on Edo's, still based on the Hackensack River, at Little Ferry, NJ. Did numerous home-built cutaways for the late Al Lewis for Air Trails and Air Progress. Currently is doing home-handyman stuff for Eisinger Communications (Larry E. was a model editor for pre-war Air Trails, pioneered CL scale model plans at AT), and appears in the New York Times.
Another project is a lengthy series of acrylic paintings of old classic planes of the '30s, which he hopes to hang in the Smithsonian. Hank is active in watersports—like fast skiing, sailing, scuba diving, rowing his own designed and built racing scull. In winter, when we can't always reach him on the phone, he is apt to be on the ski slopes. A vast HO railroad is being replaced. Photography is big with him—movies by the carton. From his Cub, he shoots zillions of air views with his ancient Leica. Wants to build a 130 mph cruise Osprey amphib, but "only made scale models of it and the Coot, so far." Trouble is, he has to finish a canoe first, build a surf-sailer, then a new foundation for his permanent home. May even resurrect an old comic strip called "Chuck Wood" for the Star Wars era. And he will titillate you guys with a new cut-away every 30 days—or we will steal his Cub!
For Openers continued from page 4
tube, two-tuber. RC now was like a space capsule on the way to the moon, lingering lightly between the powerful pull of gravity of the past, and the beguiling pull of the future. As Red Buttons used to cry at the time, "Strange things are happening . . ." Howard McEntee was flying a true single-channel proportional system, which appeared in one of the new popular electronics magazines. Walt Good was at it again with mysterious multi-channel proportional systems, designated by strange sounding initial names involving tones and pulses to yield propo elevator and rudder, plus engine. Frank Adams and George Trammell put the magnetic actuator on the map—and it is still with us in the popular Ace pulse-rudder system!
Everybody was seeking cheap ways to get elevator—and engine—out of a simple single-channel receiver. There were cascaded escapements—you blipped once for right, twice for left, three for up, and four for down. A quick blip yielded either high or low motor. It strains credibility to say that with such a "Mickey Mouse" set up, we performed outside loops, flew inverted, did vertical eights, and rolled.
And then there was Galloping Ghost—a wild and wooly setup pioneered by several innovators, including our own John Worth, which hung on for many years. They took the Adams-type system a giant step forward. By varying pulse width and length with a "beep box" attached to the simple, one-channel transmitter, and a mechanical linkage on both the flippers and the rudder, they could vary the positions of those surfaces in a coordinated, proportional manner. The rudder flapped back and forth, and the flippers flapped up and down—on the ground it sounded like a small threshing machine.
Up in Erie, PA, Frank Schmidt, already an oldtimer, exasperated by the ancient Rockwood reed systems which were forever welding their reed contacts together, would soon market the first reliable 5-channel reed system. Inspired by all this—but particularly by Good—a number of West Coast pioneers were fiddling with things which would turn into today's ultimate proportional systems—Space Control being the first to gain national prominence (announced in 1956 at the Grand Rapids HIAA show, with a $600 price tag). Bob Dunham, having won an Aerotrol as a prize at a free flight contest, was so disenchanted by the thing that he decided to develop his own radios, and the first Orbit 8-channel reed system would for some years totally dominate the field. But, as all this was piling up on the horizon, there was still that 3-channel Babcock, the first mass-produced multi-channel system.
The Babcock, a remarkably sensitive and reliable piece of equipment, had to be hitched to a Bonner compound escapement for rudder, and a trim servo which looked like a miniature Quonset hut. The receiver, about the size of a small brick (the kind they build houses with) had five (count 'em) hard tubes, and three sealed relays all sticking up in the air. One was reminded of an architect's model of a proposed factory with these five smoke stacks jutting through the roof.
With its batteries, the system probably weighed about 1½ pounds. Wonder of wonders, the transmitter had a stick with big indents that permitted the stick to move to four positions, right, left, down and up. By electronics Babcock had eliminated the necessity of squeezing a hand switch to trigger the escapement.
Now, five vacuum tubes have an enormous battery drain. We flew with four C cells for the filaments, and two more for the escapements and servo. There were also a small B battery and even a C battery. The escapement was so weak that the rudder could not be turned in the air unless it was aerodynamically balanced. The receiver was so noise-sensitive that if the engine were touched with a metal spout when priming, the escapement would cycle the rudder. All moving metal-to-metal parts had to be grounded. If metal torque rods were used, a hook-up wire pig tail was attached to the escapement and to the torque rod. In cold weather, the stiffness of its insulation would halt the escapement in its tracks. But electronically, the Babcock system was wizard.
He tried to persuade us to throw the receiver against a wall to prove how sturdy it was—with vacuum tubes yet! We did the next best thing by flying the craft into the car trunk—parked in a corner of a 100-acre field. The ship disintegrated, pieces flying over, under, and around the car. The entire control system sailed through the air, smashing to earth about 50 feet away. We walked up to it and keyed the transmitter. The escapement clicked merrily, the trim servo ran back and forth. We remember thinking, "My God, how reliable can they get!"
Jim Wilson's extraordinary job of investigative reporting—Glider Flying, Russian Style (page 38), gives us yet another insight into the eastern European approach to international competition. Going to Roskilde, Denmark, for the 1977 Free Flight World Championships, at his own expense, virtually to live with the Russian Nordic fliers both on and off the field, his perceptive observations convey the utter seriousness and dedication of the individuals—Issenko, Chopp, and Lepp—and a sense of what a nationalistic program really entails. His article will speak for itself.
For Openers
A recent article in the Speed and Racing Gazette, entitled "Modeling in the Soviet Union," noted the Russians' phenomenal record of successes in Team Racing. Quoting the famous designer, A. S. Yakovlev, who said, in 1921 "...from model to glider, from glider to airplane," the writer tells us that, shortly after WW I, the importance of model airplanes to aviation, and national defense, had been recognized in Russia. Today, DOSAAF (All Union Voluntary Society for Cooperation with the Army, Air Force, and Navy) not only fills the role of AMA and NAA, but sponsors clubs and coaches, provides building and meeting facilities, organizes the production of materials and the like. The article quotes four references, including the books, "The Russians" (Henrick Smith, Ballantine Books, NY) and "The Soviet Air Force" (Asher Lee, G. Duckworth & Co., Ltd., London, 1961) to show how modeling, as state activity, serves in a recruitment pool for people interested in Air Force and Aeroflot, the national airline. Recently, the Russian experts were invited to Korea to work with Korean modelers, and the Korean record in Wakefield and Nordic at World Championships is spectacular, leading to a speculation that we might see a North Korean entry in Team Racing. (The Russians compete only in those events in which they have a possibility of winning.)
It may soon be inaccurate to lump together as Iron Curtain countries, those nations which typically display government support, and regimented programs. Mainland China has expressed interest in FAI programs—possibly in becoming an FAI member!
Hidden behind the Great Wall, as it were, China is known to have massive programs in parachuting, gliding, and airplane modeling—she claims 350,000 model clubs! There are an estimated 3,000,000 parachutists—outside the military. She is developing a full-scale aerobatic program. The word is that she'd like a go at the Russians and Americans (in sporting competition). Like Russia, China sees all these aeronautical programs as a vital part of her "defense" picture. Boy modelers may someday end up in the Chinese Air Force, girls in the airline industry.
Who knows? One of these days AMA may be sending teams to World Championship meets—in China.
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
