60 Year Old Duct Tape

I watched through the lobby window as my A&P struggled to unload the aileron
from the back of his pickup truck At over 8 feet long, it was unwieldy and
awkward to move in the wind, even though the fabric was long since gone from
its wood and aluminum skeleton.

A guest held the door open as he sidled the part sideways through the hotel
lobby door. It took up a surprising portion of the room, and a number of us
gaped in wonder as he carefully set it down in front of the check-in
counter, smiling.

He was answering the call.

You see, we had just finished our Piper Cub Suite, and word had spread
through the airport community that we were looking for "that piece" of
memorabilia that "makes" a suite. In the Blackbird Suite, it's the
pitot-static probe off of an SR-71. In the Mustang Suite, it's the parts
off of Moonbeam McSwine, donated by this newsgroup's own Vlado Lenoch. In
the Memphis Belle Suite, it's the portraits and posters autographed for us
by Bob Morgan, pilot of the Belle. In the Stearman Suite, it's the smashed
wooden propeller, donated by a local Stearman owner. And so on. In
addition to artwork and decor, each suite has at least one "signature piece"
that makes it special in our eyes.

But not the Cub Suite, not yet. Yeah, we had hung a bent old rudder on the
wall, purchased at OSH '05, but in a suite with 10 foot ceilings that just
didn't cut it. We *needed* something else, and it was suddenly before us,
sitting on my lobby floor.

This piece was special, however, and it wasn't just ANY aileron. During the
war, the Air Corps cadets had trained at Iowa City Airport, learning to fly
in Taylor and Piper Cubs. These planes, naturally, were "rode hard and put
away wet", and the young pilots dinged them up with alarming regularity.
After a ground loop, they would unceremoniously haul the carcass off the
runway, pull it into the shop for repairs, and start mending whatever was
broken.

But there was a war on. With time a-wasting, and dozens of flight
instructors in need of an aircraft, they would simply yank off the broken
parts, slap on serviceable "new" ones, and get the plane back into the air
as quickly as possible. And this went on day after day -- for over three
years.

Old and broken parts were tossed in a shed near our historic old United
Hangar, for future use. Over time, that shed was filled to the brim with
elevators, rudders, landing gear and control surfaces, all awaiting their
day in the repair shop. They simply couldn't keep up.

But eventually the war came to an end, and so did military flight training.
The old Cubs, once so desperately needed, were dispersed to new owners all
over the country, or scrapped. The flight school closed down, the CFIs and
mechanics moved on to other jobs, and the skies over Iowa City fell silent.

But the old shed didn't move, and it was soon forgotten. As with seemingly
everything at an old airport, it was lost in time, sitting untouched for
many years, no one wanting or caring. When my A&P first came to the field
in 1960 as a new A&P, the shed was still there, still filled with parts and
junk from the war. It was a curiosity, but nothing more.

Soon thereafter, however, the shed was declared unsafe, and the city decided
to tear it down. As an early EAA homebuilder, pilot and A&P mechanic, my
friend knew an opportunity when it was presented, and he soon "liberated" a
bunch of those old parts, figuring that "someday" they would come in handy.

Over time, he used many of them on various homebuilt projects, but -- much
to his wife's dismay -- that old aileron hung in his garage rafters for the
next 45 years. When he heard our call, he knew he had just the thing for
us, because it was off an early pre-war Taylor Cub -- the predecessor of the
Piper Cub -- and he knew that the old aileron was FINALLY going to fulfill
its destiny. He also knew his wife would be thrilled to have it out of
their rafters, so he hauled it to our lobby that very day.

Covered from stem to stern with bird poop, it was hard to imagine hanging it
in a suite -- but we'd been down this road before. Elbow grease and time
can remove many flaws, and Mary and I set about making the old aileron
"wall-worthy" once again. First, it was off to the car wash, where we
sprayed it liberally with aluminum wheel cleaner, followed by a hot power
wash. We repeated this three times to remove the bird doo doo and
accumulated mouse droppings that had built up inside and outside the leading
edge.

Then, it was off to the hangar for some detail work. We couldn't figure out
why the aluminum leading edge was wrapped with duct tape, but we soon set
about removing it, thinking it wouldn't take long...

Ha! Apparently "duct tape" in the '40s was quite different from the junk we
buy nowadays, as this stuff was TOUGH. The adhesive was obviously 2 to 3
times thicker on the backside then modern duct tape (some of it was still
gooey, in the cold, after 60 years!), and the tape itself was incredibly
durable. It was only with great effort and patience that we were able to
remove the tape, which (of course) left a huge area of old adhesive, that
had to be removed with liberal applications of "Goof Off" and abrasion.

We were most surprised to find huge, gaping holes in the aluminum under the
duct tape, apparently caused by corrosion. It looked like it had been eaten
away from the inside, and areas adjacent to the holes were incredibly thin.
Nowadays it would have been scrapped or had new aluminum nailed on (yes, it
was NAILED to the wooden spar), but during the war they simply slapped some
heavy duct tape over the holes, recovered the whole thing, and sent it back
into service. This plane was old BEFORE the war started.

But it's hard to argue with their results. What would clearly be declared
"non-airworthy" today was still holding strong, over 60 years later.

As we pulled and pried the duct tape off the discolored aluminum, I could
only wonder about the guys who did these repairs. Their ghosts fell silent
as I pried away their handiwork, done so many years ago during those
desperate years. How many service men trained in the plane this aileron
once banked? What happened to the rest of the plane, and the pilot who
apparently wrecked it? Did he go off to battle the Luftwaffe, or the
Japanese? Or did he wash out because of the incident that ultimately
wrecked this plane?

Or was he killed in the incident? It happened.

These are questions no one can ever answer -- and the aileron ghosts aren't
talking. Now all shiny and clean, it will make a fine addition to the Cub
Suite, and I hope the men who flew it and worked on it so long ago would be
happy to know that it's found a home among friends.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

As usual... nice post!

Sweet post or is that "Suite" post


Tom

Jay,
You should consider becoming an aviation columnist.

Hai Longworth

God forbid. It is wonderful to read Jay when the muse comes to visit, but
the muse doesn't always visit with a 10th of the month deadline, month after
month after month ...

Jim


"Longworth" wrote in message
oups.com...
Jay,
You should consider becoming an aviation columnist.

Hai Longworth

So... Jay,

Are you working on a book? I would think it would be a best seller.

Enjoyed your writing, as always!

Randy

Jim,
Hey, if Jay can write a nice piece about duct tape, he can write
about anything. I'm expecting a great post titled "Zen and the Art of
toilet bowl unclogging". It will be in-topic because he will wax
poetry on great stick and rudder honing skill with the plunger ;-)

Hai

Great write up Jay!


Karl
"curator" N185KG

:-).

Deb

--
1946 Luscombe 8A (his)
1948 Luscombe 8E (hers)
1954 Cessna 195B, restoring (ours)

Nice...

The Monk