Page 22 - 2016 MARCH issue

Tell Me A Story

A BUCKET OF PROP WASH

by Rodger Cook, ACB, ALB

It’s Friday, August 29th, 1969. I was nine- understand some safety tips before going out
teen years old, nervous, and also very excited. to work the flight.”
I walked from my car into the passenger
terminal, at the San Jose Municipal, for my “Always wear your ramp helmet, ear protec-
very first day on the job. I didn’t know airplanes tors, and gloves. Watch where you are walking,
from roller skates, as I had never flown on never run, and stay away from the airplane’s
one. And now here I was about to start work propellers until they have completely stopped
for an airline. . . .or, you could end up like me!”

I stepped up to the Hughes Airwest ticket From under the desk he raised his left arm
counter and introduced myself to the ticket and I saw “The Hook” for the first time. My
agent. “Hello, my name eyes became the size of saucers, and I said
is Rodger Cook, and I’m
looking for Ward Gross.” loudly “Yes Sir!”
Later that evening, after I
The ticket agent,
John Peterson, looked at had received some coaching
me, smiled, then sort of from my new colleagues on
giggled, “You must be the how to guide an aircraft to it’s
new guy. Step over here parking spot, I was assigned
and I’ll take you back to to greet the next in-bound
the office.” flight. I had my helmet, ear
protection, and gloves on, and
As we entered the back I followed my coworkers out
office area, the entire onto the tarmac. My heart was
room of my soon to be thumping as they showed me
coworkers went silent, and where to stand.
they stared me down. I felt
embarrassed, I wanted to As the 40-passenger
turn around and go back Fairchild F-27 twin turbo prop
home. taxied towards the ramp, my
thoughts evolved around what
One of the coworkers Ward “The Hook” Gross had
told me that Ward Gross, told me. The aircraft taxied
the station manager, was closer and closer, the high
waiting to see me in the pitch scream of the Rolls
next office down the hall. Royce Dart engines getting
louder and louder. My eyes were popping,
Mr. Gross was sitting behind a large, old my stomach began to churn, and my nervous
wooden desk covered with stacks of papers, system began to thrum like a too tightly wound
tickets, and a telephone. There were book- guitar string.
shelves full of binders, and the walls were My arms motioned for the aircraft to come
covered with photos of the company’s aircraft. forward. Closer and closer it came, the engines
A cigarette was smoldering in the ash tray. ever so loud. My arms began to move slower
and then come together. When the aircraft was
“Hello Rodger, welcome aboard, come on in only 25 feet away, I made the signal to STOP!
and have a seat. I’m Ward the station manager.” My colleagues congratulated me on parking
He reached his right hand out and we shook the aircraft right on the center of the painted
hands. “Our first flight this afternoon is due white line. Yes, I did it!
to arrive in about a hour, and I want you to

22 Volume 2 Issue 8 - MARCH 2016