I was 5 when my family moved from Pittsburg to Beckley, West Virginia. My dad was an FBI agent and had been transferred. I immediately made friends with a 6 year-old boy across the street – Billy Richmond. Billy and I had countless imaginary games of Army, Navy and Air Force. A hill on a vacant lot became a German fortified position we had to capture; an old log behind Billy’s house was a pretend submarine; and a big apple tree in a neighbor’s yard was our B-29. Our greatest joy in life was a trip to the Army/Navy Surplus store downtown, where they sold everything from bayonets to Army blankets to mess kits. As young boys, we were enamored with the war and the heroics of the American troops. It dominated our existence.
Two doors up from my house lived a kid named Hal Turner. Hal was about 13 or 14. His dad was well heeled and Hal had a Lionel train layout in his attic that would be the envy of any model railroad enthusiast today. Hal had at least 8 tracks, winding their way through a miniature town and sometimes, just sometimes, he’d let Billy and I come up and watch as he guided the engines and cars around the tracks.
Billy and I sat spellbound, but what was even more impressive was Hal’s collection of model airplanes. Hal was an artist with a piece of balsa and a carving knife. His model airplanes were works of art, precision crafted down to the finest detail. He had them on shelves, dozens and dozens in a display of untold beauty. There were P-32 Hawk Fighters, B-17 Flying Fortresses, A-12 Shrike Attack Bombers, Douglas B-23 Dragons, P-38 Lightning Fighters and more. On rare occasions, Hal would allow Billy and I to actually pick up one of the planes and make an imaginary bombing run across the room. Those planes were the most captivating pieces of art I have seen before or since, so I tried my hand at building a model airplane.
Whereas Hal Tuner was patient and exacting, I was eager to finish my project within the hour. Where he meticulously carved each wing for mid-air efficiency, I whacked away with my kit knife like a goblin carving up a pumpkin. I put decals upside down and left glue residue on the cockpits. I sloppily applied a coat of paint on before the primer was dry.
I was an awful model plane builder.
A year or so back, trying to find a truly unique gift for my grandson, I went to the hobby store looking for model airplanes. Maybe he would be a better builder than I, but they had none. They had a few plastic hot rod kits, but no planes. What a shame.
All of the video games in the world could never come close to creating a sparkle in the eye of a young boy like a model airplane and all it represented to a nation emerging victorious from a great war.