Flying 20 Club, Inc.

Early History

About the birth of the Flying 20 Club

Detailed history of the start-up of the Flying 20 Club. excepted from “Wing Tips”, January/February 1982, by Dale O. Housel, page 8.  It was apparantly known to the author as the "Flying 20's Club" at that time.

Time: 1939, Danbury, Connecticut.  The Flying 20’s Club  was about to be born.  H. N. and Ted Riley sat at the table with Cliff Sadler.  Cliff had a J-2 Cub NC 30273, he would sell for $400.  H.N. was earning $16 a week and expecting another addition to his family.  Ted was just as poor.  They both wanted that flying machine so bad they could taste it.  It was decided Cliff would wait until the first of the month for them to come up with all those bucks, then he would sell it to the first buyer who came along.

Driving back to Stamford, from Danbury sod field Ted and H.N. came up with the brilliant idea, if twenty guys had $20 apiece, they could put it in the hat and own an airplane.  They placed an ad in the Stamford Advocate, put notices up in Yale & Town Lock Co., Pitney Bowes Postage Meter Co., and the Electrolux plant, and were having their organizational meeting for the FLYING 20’s CLUB.  There was a full house (actually a barn) at that meeting.  About thirty would-be airplane drivers showed up.  The first 20 to put up their $20 were charter members.  Six more put their names on a waiting list.  Officers were elected, a rule committee formed, and a tentative cost of $2 per hour flying time was agreed upon.  A year had gone by with little trouble . . . 1940.

Sunrise on any week-end found eager members awaiting their turn to drive that J-2 about the Connecticut skies.

Cliff Sadler had just completed an overhaul on the mighty 40 h.p. Continental rubber band and H.N. was out putting it through its paces.  Two hours SMOH were on the engine and all appeared smooth.  The weather was beautiful, H.N. was young and devil-may-care.  Little voices started to talk to him.  “You have four thousand feet.  Why don’t you try a loop?” H.N. cleared the area, dove the J-2 and pulled up in a fairly tight loop, leveling the wings with the horizon going over the top, and easing off on the down hill side of the loop.  The little voice said, “Hey, that was cool.  Why not loop the loop?”  (A larger loop around the original one.)  Back came the stick with less pressure than the one before.  The yellow fabric bird started its climb up the hill and shortly began to labor as it approached inverted flight.  Gravity was working on the fuel in the conventional carburetor.  Not only was the J-2 stalled on the top of the loop but the engine stopped dead.  The prop sat there with every line of the wood grain standing out in H.N.’s view.

As H.N.’s reflexes took over, he Split”s”ed out of the stall, turned off the fuel and ignition switches and looked below for a place to put it down.  Again the little voices started.  “Gees, you probably froze up that engine.  What will the other guys say?”  Maybe you can start it again,  you still have nearly three thousand feet.  Fuel back on, switch to mags, dive, it will take about 120 mph to windmill the prop.  It never moves as the hills south of Danbury loom closer.  FORGET IT!  There is the field about a mile and a half to the north.  Follow that ridge down, it should give a little lift and extend the glide.”

With a slight pucker the tail slid over the low fence and a dead bird lit in the tall grass.  H.N. unbuckled and headed for the prop, hoping the engine was not frozen.  He reached up and easily pulled the prop through.  POP!! BUZZ and LOOK OUT!!  “You dummy, you left the ignition on!”  As the Cub started to move through the grass, H.N. moved faster.  He circled the strut and dove for the throttle.  As H.N. taxied up to the ramp, one of the group shouted, “Where the hell did you come from? We never saw you land”  H.N. said, “Oh, I landed a little short.”  The voice said  “A little short of brains, don’t you mean?”