A STORY WORTH TELLING
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The English idiom “time flies” has a special meaning among old pilots including me.
Those would be folks who smile when standing in the shadow of propeller-driven aircraft as old or older than we are, feeling excitement in the smoky, rumbling startup of an antique radial aircraft engine.
But it sure doesn’t seem like it’s been almost 10 years since Frankie Glover at Mid America Flight Museum up in Mount Pleasant sent me this message: “Columbine II will be arriving in Mount Pleasant tomorrow afternoon. I’ll keep you updated.”
Columbine II was the name given to the U.S. presidential aircraft used by Dwight D. Eisenhower from 1952 to 1954. Better known as “Ike,” the five-star Army general served as supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe during World War II. He had been elected president by the time I entered the first grade.
The historic aircraft’s stop in Northeast Texas some 60 years later was no coincidence. Mount Pleasant native Scott Glover and his MAFM team in the Northeast Texas city played a key role in restoring the historic aircraft to flying condition after it was rescued from sitting neglected at an Arizona airport for many years.
The Texas stop was also a break in the nine-hour trip from Arizona to Bridgewater, Virginia, where it has since been undergoing restoration to its early 1950s configuration as the presidential aircraft. Given its name by First Lady Mamie Eisenhower in honor of the official state flower of her adopted home state, Colorado, the former presidential plane is a military version of the Lockheed Constellation.
The “Connie,” as it was called, was a highly successful four-engine propeller-driven 1950s airliner. Known for its speed, range, luxury and pressurized cabin for comfortable longdistance flights, this one carried tail number 8610, confirming it as the first presidential aircraft to use the universally recognized call sign “Air Force One,” which is the official designation for any aircraft with the U.S. president on board.
I kept my camera busy that day in 2016, capturing fleeting images of time flying by. The beauty of the plane’s porpoise-shaped aluminum fuselage and distinctive triplerudder tail design stood out against the afternoon sun. The aircraft appeared breathtakingly elegant as it floated toward the runway in its landing approach and touched down on its uniquely tall landing gear.
The day reminded me of another time that had flown by, the night Mount Pleasant was host to presidential history.
I was a Mount Pleasant High School student and a member of the Explorer Scout Post called upon to assist with crowd control for the scheduled arrival of President Lyndon B. Johnson. The president was coming to town for a celebratory function at the National Guard Armory on North Jefferson Street, honoring an East Texas resident and friend.
Darkness arrived as onlookers crowded the airport, many skeptical the president was really coming to the small town. Anticipation mounted as the plane touched down and taxied to the apron near the terminal.
Flashbulbs lit up the night sky when Johnson stepped off the plane, waving and smiling. The crowd cheered. Performing our assigned task, we stood firm with our backs to the crowd and arms spread wide against the encroaching throng.
I looked to my left and caught a glimpse of the president as he neared. He waved, tipped his hat and shook hands. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
As the president approached, he paused, grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously.
“Nice uniform, son,” he said before moving on to the next handshake and the waiting car taking him to his scheduled event on the other side of town.
All I could think was, “The president of the United States just shook my hand.”
I hurried home on nearby Redbud Street and charged into the house.
“I shook the president’s hand tonight,” I said. “He shook my hand.”
My father, who voted pretty much Democratic in those days, smiled and commented, “Well, how about that.”
You might say time has flown since I shook a president’s hand at the Mount Pleasant airport, and then later saw another president’s plane, the first Air Force One, at the same locale.
At this age, however, it seems more like one moment it’s today, the next it’s a memory.
Because time flies faster than we realize.
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
