A year ago tomorrow I had a story in
The Commercial Appeal
about Gordon Hall (
No adversity could keep flying man Gordon Hall on ground; April 24, 2011). Mr. Hall began flying airplanes at the age of 17 after
flunking out of high school because, as he told me then, “I had no desire to learn
algebra, chemistry, geometry and physics, all the stuff they were trying to jam
down my throat."
Instead, he wanted to fly. And fly he did.
In 1946 he joined the Air Force but was found unfit to fly
because of a lack of depth perception. He spent the next 18 years as a radio
controller and air traffic controller. They couldn't keep him down and he continued to fly on the side as a
charter pilot and instructor. When the Army came looking for those
with commercial pilot ratings who wanted to transfer and train to fly
helicopters, Mr. Hall jumped at the chance.
The only catch? Passing a Class 1 physical, including an eye
exam and depth perception test requiring him to look into a viewfinder and pick
out one circle of five that appeared to stand out among five separate rows.
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| Photo by Dave Darnell |
He told the story: “As I started to look into the viewer,
the phone rang, and the flight surgeon picked up the phone, smiled, turned
around and engaged in the conversation, so I read off fictitious numbers,"
Hall said. "And then I just sat there trying to look bored because I was
worried sick that he was going to ask me to repeat. So I just sat there, and he
turned around and said, 'Well, that's about it.'"
He flew supply missions in Vietnam, at one point rescuing
two downed pilots in the Gulf of Siam as North Vietnamese sped towards them in
boats. It was his “greatest accomplishment and adventure in Vietnam.”
Mr. Hall lost all vision in his right eye in 1966, yet
continued to fly charters and as instructor until 1996. I got word over the
weekend that he passed away Friday evening at the age of 84.
I had a great time getting to know Mr. Hall and hearing his
stories. He kept a map in his home office with red pushpins in the location of
every airport in the country he’s landed in. The entire thing was a sea of red.
He wrote in his memoir,
"Tiger Lead, Your Flight Is Up,"
published in March 2011: "Ever since third grade, I used to lie on an
incline in the grass during the lunch break and I would spend time looking up
at the beautiful, soft, billowy, white cumulous clouds as they floated with the
wind. I was absolutely entranced at the thought of being a bird or perhaps a
bird man or even being able to fly an airplane among those puffy white clouds
floating in the blue sky."
Fly on, bird man.
No adversity could keep flying man Gordon Hall on ground
Gordon Hall dropped out of high school because he found its
pace too slow, too rooted in the ground, and he needed to fly.
"I had some hard times in high school," said Hall,
who lives in Bartlett. "My mother wanted me to go to college prep school,
but I had no desire to go to college, and I flunked out of high school. I had
no desire to learn algebra, chemistry, geometry and physics, all the stuff they
were trying to jam down my throat."
Ten days later, in 1946, he was in the Air Force training to
be a Morse code radio operator, eventually being sent to the Aleutian Islands
for 14 months. The northern Pacific Ocean, he said, was a place that
"impressed me more than any other place I've ever been."
Growing up in Connecticut, his father worked as a fireman or
engineer on steam locomotives during the Depression to support Hall and his five
older sisters. But while his father was moving across the terrain at ground
level, his son had dreams of soaring.
Hall writes in his memoir, "Tiger Lead, Your Flight Is
Up," published in mid-March: "Ever since third grade, I used to lie
on an incline in the grass during the lunch break and I would spend time
looking up at the beautiful, soft, billowy, white cumulous clouds as they
floated with the wind. I was absolutely entranced at the thought of being a
bird or perhaps a bird man or even being able to fly an airplane among those
puffy white clouds floating in the blue sky."
In 1945, after VE Day, flying restrictions were lifted on
the East Coast and the chamber of commerce sponsored 40 hours of ground school
for kids. After ground school, Hall bought a block of flying time and began
training, soloing only two months after his 17th birthday.
Despite his love for flying and his early training, he was
unable to fly in the Air Force because of his lack of education and a
deficiency in depth perception. Instead, he spent the next 18 years as a radio
operator and air traffic controller.
The Army came looking for those with commercial pilot
ratings who wanted to transfer from their current branch of the service to
train as helicopter pilots. From 1960-64, Hall had been flying on the side as a
charter pilot and flight instructor, building his time in the air. He qualified
for the chance to join the Army, but he had to complete a Class 1 physical.
On the day of his physical, the final exam was the depth
perception test requiring him to look into a viewfinder and pick out one circle
of five that appeared to stand out among five separate rows.
"As I started to look into the viewer, the phone rang,
and the flight surgeon picked up the phone, smiled, turned around and engaged
in the conversation, so I read off fictitious numbers," Hall said.
"And then I just sat there trying to look bored because I was worried sick
that he was going to ask me to repeat. So I just sat there, and he turned
around and said, 'Well, that's about it.'"
Hall was accepted into the Army as a warrant officer aviator
in June 1964 and was sent to Fort Rucker for helicopter school, where at 36
years old he had the most military and flying time, and was the oldest of 16
students learning to fly the Bell UH-1Y or "Huey," as it was known.
"While these guys were starting out, I already had
2,200 hours (of flight time)," he said.
Bryce Haugsdahl first flew with Hall after moving to Memphis
from Los Angeles in 1984 to work as a charter pilot and flight instructor.
"He gave me my first ride as a co-pilot in a jet,"
said Haugsdahl, the current president of United Way of the Mid-South "It
was a real thrill for me; that was the first jet I'd ever flown. Gordon was one
of the first guys to help me get my career in Memphis off the ground as far as
flying."
Hall finished school in 1965 and, he said, "45 days
later I was in Vietnam."
"We were the first company to pioneer air mobility,
carrying troops into combat by helicopter," Hall said. "If we weren't
flying combat, we were doing support for little detachments or units in our
vicinity."
He took his tour in the southern part of Vietnam, mainly
ferrying South Vietnamese troops into combat. On Dec. 15, 1965, while returning
from a resupply mission, Hall and his crew of co-pilot and gunner were told a
Navy plane had gone down in the Gulf of Siam (now the Gulf of Thailand) and the
pilots had ejected. Being in the closest aircraft, Hall was asked if they were
able to help with the rescue effort. He turned around and headed out over the
water, spotting two crewmen in life boats not far off the coast and two hostile
boats on the way to the scene. With no hoist or harness on board, Hall had to
make the daring rescue of putting the helicopter's skids into the water so his
copilot could pull pilots John Sutor and George Dresser aboard.
"It was my greatest accomplishment and adventure in
Vietnam," Hall said.
He left Vietnam credited with 940 hours of combat flight and
combat support time, was awarded 27 air medals, including two with a V for
valor, and was recommended twice for the Distinguished Flying Cross in only
101/2 months.
He lost all vision in his right eye due to histoplasmosis, a
fungal infection, in 1966, the same year he retired from the Army, and eventually
had that eye removed. Despite this infirmity, he continued to fly as an
instructor and for corporate charters, a job that brought him to Memphis to fly
for the Murff Cotton Co.
When asked if the incident over the Gulf of Siam was the
closest he has come to any real trouble in the air, Hall produces a sheaf of
papers listing problems he's encountered as a pilot, mostly alone, though some
were with student pilots. The emergencies include dropping oil pressure,
stalled engines and engine fires.
"I was so impressed: Here was a guy who only had one
eye, and yet he had a waiver to fly and he was so smooth on the controls, a
very accomplished precision instrument pilot," Haugsdahl said. "He
had the basics and fundamentals down so well that he was very comfortable in
the airplane. ... He performed just exactly as I would expect him to perform
without a ruffled feather."
Hall retired completely from flying in 1996 at the age of
68, having been an active pilot for more than 51 years -- 30 of them with an
artificial eye -- and with 18,603 hours of flight time in his log books. A map
of the United States in Hall's home office is riddled with dots, 528 of them
marking every airport where he's made a landing. In his career, he's had the
privilege of flying 66 different types of aircraft into those fluffy clouds he
gazed upon as a young man.
"It was a challenge and a sense of satisfaction; that's
the whole key," he said of learning to fly and maintaining such a long
career. "I've had a great life, and I've been a lucky boy."
"Tiger Lead, Your Flight Is Up," is available
online and locally at Davis-Kidd Booksellers.
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