Lately I’ve been basking in the glow of aviation’s autumnal glory. Crops are almost out of the Iowa fields, opening more emergency—or just fun—landing sites, and mood-altering MOSAIC (Modernization of Special Airworthiness Certification) liberates many of us from suffering through flight physicals, including Basic Med, which I admit was a good alternative. I hold a commercial pilot certificate but don’t fly for hire. Instruct for hire, yes, but that’s different from remunerative flight, so using my driver’s license for medical worthiness with Sport Pilot privileges satisfies me.
Nowadays I limit flight instruction to giving flight reviews and tailwheel dual from grass runways in daytime VFR. It’s my chosen life far from big city airport restrictions and loony political winds. To paraphrase Paul Simon, “Safe within my hangar, I touch no one and no one touches me.” Until, dammit, I accidentally caught two headlines, one claiming the federal government had shutdown, because no one knows how it works, and the other that U.S. generals and admirals had gathered for a high school pep talk in Quantico, Virginia. Distractions both, but neither pierced the sanctity of my idyll of transponder-free taildraggers chasing barn swallows over rural airfields. Quinta, my 1946 Aeronca Champ, still burns 4 gallons of car gas per hour, and students still don’t use enough right rudder. Life beneath her wings remained emotionally safe, or so I thought until cracks appeared in reports of these dual events, seemingly unrelated to my aviation cocoon. But I had to investigate more deeply.
First, in the press images of the assembled military brass, the very models of modern major generals, there’s no mention of the many NCOs (Non-Commissioned Officers) in the crowd. Fifty years ago, I mustered out of the Army after an inglorious three-year gig, during which I stumbled into the NCO rank of Specialist Fifth Class (E-5) in a job (MOS) that gave me ample free time to linger at a nearby flying club. To me generals were irrelevant, something to avoid and salute when unable to cross the street in time, and I recall only one awkward interaction with a sergeant major (E-9; highest of enlisted ranks) who threatened to bust me to E4 after failing to salute a colonel’s passing car, not even a general’s. Those experiences—and I admit the links are tenuous—reminded me of the several government shutdowns, and threatened shutdowns, I’d later encountered as an FAA air traffic controller (1979-1997).
No government is ever fully functional—I believe Voltaire said that—and periodically memos would rain down like bureaucratic manna on us FAA troops, warning that nonessential employees might be furloughed without pay whenever politicians couldn’t get their frijoles together and pass a budget. Bummer. Controllers and first-line supervisors plus technicians who keep the approach gates greased were deemed essential. In the event of a political freakout we stayed on the job while the facility manager and support staff hit the bricks. Sad though that seems, we who remained behind didn’t miss upper management. Air traffic still flowed without reportable incidents, even without our essential paychecks. Ultimately, kumbaya solutions and funds appeared, cans were kicked down legislative roads, and the nonessential hostages returned fully rested with back pay. We who’d stayed and braved the ATC frontlines without upper management interference were also paid, meaning management got a paid vacation, and we didn’t.
ATC works like a well-sanded Pachinko machine. Despite shortcomings all the stuff that goes into running a facility requires budgets, schedules, initial training, recurrent training, employee reviews, disciplinary actions, union flapdoodle, plus finding and retaining HVAC technicians and janitorial staff to keep the lights on, wash the tower cab windows, and sweep up the Dorito crumbs in the break room. I could never properly manage even the smallest air traffic control tower. In the Army I was an enlisted man, not an officer. It’s the E4s who run the day-to-day military so generals and command sergeant majors can jet off to rallies. In the FAA, it’s the frontline controllers who say, “radar contact,” and it’s the front office clerks and managers who wrestle the endless administrative minutiae inherent in any organization. When idiots (too harsh?) in Washington, D.C.—of either party—don’t do their primary jobs to fund the Dr Seuss National Airspace System, we all suffer and should be thoroughly disgusted while sighing a collective, “Harrumph.”
But what do I know? These are the musings of a former air traffic controller and semi-retired flight instructor seated inside a rusty hangar and enjoying the sight of my neighbor’s J-3 Cub silhouetted against a perfect October sunset, while I struggle to ignore the derecho of overwhelming stupidity that seems to reappear in almost predictable waves, year after year.
Sigh…Pass the single malt. Cheers.
Amen, make it a double.
👏👏👏
Thank you, Paul, for a thoughtful piece with much to read between the lines.
“ Sad though that seems, we who remained behind didn’t miss upper management.”
Careful Paul.
The Walmart shelves are still stocked with toilet paper. The mail still runs and the fire department is still putting out fires. Flip the light switch and the lights still come on. The police department is still responding to calls (certain large cities notwithstanding). Takeoffs, landings are happening at thousands of airports across the country. FBOs are open and fuel is available.
If we’re not careful, Joe on the street won’t miss upper Managment.
Maybe it’s time to say “Thank you for your service” to ATC instead of the hearty G’Day. Those on the front lines are the true heroes.
Paul,
Many high-ranking NCOs attended Pete Hegseth’s rant. When the camera swept the audience I could see up to nine stripes on many uniforms. But Pete didn’t give them anywhere equal time. All services recognize the enliisted ranks make the gears turn, except maybe Pete. He staged a pointless power play at our great expense when, as one officer said wryly, “an email would have been fine.”
The federal government is something akin to the human body. It works, but we don’t understand a lot about how it does it.
Mark Twain said it best:“Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it.” Millions of federal workers are devoted to serving their countrymen and love their jobs. But many of the top executives don’t deserve our loyalty.
A good read as always. My hangar and airplane offer me a welcome respite from the events of the day. At other times I think I should not look away. For instance at the Quantico “high school pep talk” at which the Commander-in-Chief of the US Armed Forces told 800 of his commanders, “Last month, I signed an executive order to provide training for a quick reaction force that can help quell civil disturbances. This is going to be a big thing for the people in this room because it’s the enemy from within and we have to handle it before it gets out of control.” Hard to ignore talk of using our great military to fight Americans on American streets. At least I can’t.
THIS. This is the reason I subscribe. Talented aviation yarn-spinners are still out there. Astute editors find and present them for us to enjoy, like petit-fours after a four-course meal of depressing government idiocy. Fifty years ago I first soloed in a ’42 Cub and became a half-owner of a ’46 Champ a year later. I miss the languid pace of life that allowed me to spend my days as Berge does now.
And anyone who can properly reference Paul Simon, Gllbert&Sullivan, and Theodor Geisel in an aviation essay deserves far more than a perfunctory TYFYS. I propose we nominate him for the Nobel in Medicine.
Good to see your name back in print, Paul B. Years ago, the TV program Saturday Night Live coined the term “Bad Theatre” to describe one of its goofy and rather inane skits. That same term could be applied to the Quantico fiasco and the endlessly recurring government “shutdowns”. A shutdown is simply Congressional finger-pointing where each side tries to blame the other for failure to do their jobs. As for the Quantico gathering, I find it amusing that the Secretary of War announced that he would no longer tolerate fat generals; then he introduces our Fearless Leader who has to be helped down ramps and to get in and out of golf carts. No irony there….
It was a dark and stormy night when a flash of lightning revealed two highly inebriated pilots sitting beneath the wing of a Howard. Each held their faux crystal glasses high, ready to toast one another with what was left from the bottle of a fine single malt scotch. Then they both realized that the only word that could express their feelings at that moment was … cheers. Because once said, nothing else really mattered.
Cheers, Pauly.
Paul,
Very much appreciated, as always. We’ve been through a few short-term shutdowns in the past, and I hope your take is correct, but I cannot help but feel that this time, with this regime, it’s different. It’s anecdotal, I know, but my few public service friends in the “essential” class say that because they feel no real support from highest levels, if this goes on much longer, they’ll start calling in sick. We’ll see…
Even though probably fraudulent to call out sick with prior announcement, doing so would be completely understandable.
There is not a single good reason to dock pay for critical staff – especially if the cause for the ruckus is caused by primates and monkeys in suits in Washington. Thats all these clowns have ever been and its about all they will ever be.
Unfortunately things always need to come to a screetching halt and maybe a severe and lasting groundstop will cause enough pain to bring these idiots to their senses.
With current language and attitudes on display coming to their senses may just be another vacuum.