Loved the Zeppelin History
Great article by George Denniston in the August issue on
the history of dirigible flight.
One comment: Although the density of hydrogen
is in fact about one-half that of helium, the “lifting
power” ratio of H2 to He in air is given by the fraction
(pa - pH2) / (pa - pHe).
When the values of the three densities are put into
this formula, the result is about 1.08, meaning there is
only an 8 percent advantage to using hydrogen as the
lifting gas.
Steve Craigle, EAA 626089
Arlington, Washington
Runaway Airplane
I’ve just received my July EAA Sport Aviation and, as usual,
find it full of great articles. I appreciated the article on
the runaway airplane because I’ve had a run for my life
twice from runaways. It seems they always turn toward
the nearest innocent bystander.
I am, however, deeply concerned with the advice
you give on propping an aircraft engine. You advocate
standing behind the propeller and with one hand,
propping the engine. This is the quickest way to get hurt
I know of. I am nearly 79 years old, have been flying and
working on airplanes since 1947, and was taught to prop
an airplane by people who started their flight careers in
Curtiss Jennys, so I don’t come to my criticism lightly.
By standing behind the prop, you are, by nature,
not in a wholly balanced position. The back side of the
propeller does not give you any area of purchase with
which to force the prop down, so you have to curl your
fingers over the trailing edge to grasp the propeller, as
the picture shows. Now, when the engine kicks back you
stand a good chance of serious injury. I was taught, and
still practice today, to stand in front of the propeller with
both feet planted firmly on the ground so you have good
balance, use two hands resting on the airfoil without the
fingers curled over the trailing edge, and then swing the
propeller sharply down. If the engine kicks back, your
hands simply slide off. I’ve started every conceivable kind
of engine this way, including large radials, have survived
vicious kickbacks, and have never had an accident.
I believe you do your readers a disservice with the
advice you gave. The rest of the advice in the sidebar was
right on, with chocking and tying down most important.
Ken Collins, EAA 168253
Wichita, Kansas
Saving Mr. Tyler’s Buckwheat Patch
I have been flying in and out of Plainville airport for
many years, going back as far as right after World War
II when it was just a dirt runway. Over the years I got
to know Mr. Stamford Robertson quite well, and I feel
New Lifetime Members
Fred Bates (EAA 1007268), Port Lavaca, Texas
James Baumann (EAA 298082), Aurora, Colorado
Steinar Bergby (EAA 791622), Bates City, Missouri
Nelson Cambata (EAA 805252), Sanford, Florida
Michael Cummins (EAA 578202), University Park, Maryland
Duane Gibson (EAA 779439), Chevy Chase, Maryland
John Keagy (EAA 754266), Homewood, California
Richard Keyt (EAA 69248), Granbury, Texas
Keith Lord (EAA 617944), Rogers, Minnesota
James McMahon (EAA 716803), Cathlamet, Washington
Brian Rupnow (EAA 230292), Jefferson, Wisconsin
Bret Steffen (EAA 870589), Berlin, Wisconsin
Gene Valentino (EAA 871735), Pensacola, Florida
Krista Wise (EAA 748523), Ostrander, Ohio
it most important to note that he was an Army liaison
aviator during World War II and always had lots of stories
to tell. So, naming it Robertson Airport gives credit and
respect to this wonderful gentleman. He was my ideal
lightplane military advisor, looked the part, and talked
the part. But I need to make a comment about his name.
He preferred to be called Stam, and not Stan, because
his real name is Stamford, with an “m.”
Yes, it is a wonderful story about the history of
Robertson Field in Plainville, Connecticut, and shows
that with a little bit of work on the part of so many
people, a town can learn to appreciate the importance
of having its “own” airport.
On another subject, and referring to the story “Hand
Propping Gone Bad,” on page 96. While in high school
in New Haven, Connecticut, I would ride my bicycle
5 miles after school to work at the local airport (now
Tweed-New Haven Airport) as a “lineboy,” to earn enough
money for flying lessons. It was 1946, just after World War
II, and they had Piper J- 3 trainers on line.
Standard operating procedure, as part of our training,
was to be taught how to prop the J- 3 and other similar
airplanes (Taylorcrafts, Aeroncas, Luscombes) and
eventually some large radial engines in T-6s, twin Beeches,
and the like, when they might have a dead battery in the
middle of the winter, for instance. It might sound like
dangerous work, but to me it was fun, and still is. I never
