The Boxcar Blues (27 page)

Catwalk smiled and yelled, “You better fly
some more so you get used to it.”

He walked into the office to get his
personal effects, and said goodbye to the people on duty. Billy Sue
was in tears as he hugged her and promised to stay in touch. The
rest of the employees wished him well and he left the airport
feeling better, except he’d have to clean out the Jenny first
chance he had.

Catwalk flew back to Meridian, thinking
about his future the entire trip. On one hand his wanderlust was
steering him toward Alaska because he yearned to see this unspoiled
land where bears outnumbered humans and the humans treated each
other equally. Another part of him said he should settle back in
Meridian with his Mother and the family, so he could spend some
time with his brothers and sisters while they were growing up. The
problem was, there was only one job for him back in Mississippi and
that was working on a farm, which he wasn’t about to do.

Another possibility was to use one of his
contacts in the airline business to find a job with another
carrier. The problem he faced here was he knew the job would be
menial at best. This just wasn’t a time when anyone, unless you
found another saint like Barney, was going to hire a black man for
a management position, regardless of his experience. He landed with
his mind still tugging him in different directions.

His Mother was overjoyed to see him and the
happiest woman on earth in her new house. Cecil had finished enough
of the house that the family could move in about two weeks ago.
Now, he was working on a third bedroom in his spare time. The first
thing he asked Catwalk was if he was going to be there long enough
to finish the room.

“
I’ll be here a week or
so. We should be able to get it done. I’ll go into town tomorrow to
get the paint and shingles we need.”

“
Good. When I finish this
I’m going to start on the other house so Mom can rent it
out.”

His Mother asked, “Where are you going,
Luke?”

“
I don’t know, Momma. I’m
thinking about heading up to Alaska to find a flying
job.”

“
Alaska? Why so far away.
Can’t you get work around here?”

“
Momma, the only job I can
get around here is on a farm. I’ve done enough farm
work.”

Cecil said, “He’s right, Momma. If he’s got
a chance to find decent work, he should go after it. There’s no
future working on a farm.”

His Mother said nothing, even though she was
beset with conflicting thoughts. She wanted her son close to her so
badly, that she wouldn’t mind if working on a farm accomplished
this. On the other hand, she was immensely proud of him and knew
his success would not allow him to work in the fields any longer.
She hugged him and said, “Do what you have to, Luke. Just come back
to see us every now and then.”

Catwalk had been home eight days when,
during his sleep one night, he heard Sam’s voice. “Go to Alaska,
Cat. Find your destiny in the land of the midnight sun.”

He awoke, sat straight up and looked around
him; all his brothers were sound asleep. He pulled on his jeans and
went out on the porch. Had he imagined that he heard her voice? No,
there was no mistaking it; he knew where he was going.

He was still sitting there two hours later
when Dee got up. He told her about hearing Sam’s voice.

She didn’t hesitate, “Go then, Luke. Go to
Alaska, but be safe, honey.”

Catwalk called Curly from a pay phone at the
drug store. He told him he’d pick him up at the airport in Norwich
day after tomorrow. Curly was ecstatic and sounded like he’d been
released from Purgatory. He asked Catwalk, “Do you think there’s
many women in Alaska?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Catwalk and Curly were standing on a pier in
Valdez, Alaska, next to a Stinson Detroiter seaplane, looking at
the Chugach Mountain range.

Curly said, “Do you think they’re higher
than the Rockies?”

“
I don’t know, but they
sure got a lot more snow, and they got those glaciers too. Do you
know what those are?”

“
Bunch a’ damned ice, as
far as I know.”

A voice boomed out behind them. “I’m Hank
Conroy. I s’pose you’re the two hot-shit pud-knockers lookin’ for a
job flyin’ the bush.”

They turned and saw a sawed-off fireplug of
a man, with blazing eyes dressed in wool cap, flannel shirt,
corduroy britches and knee-high lace-up boots. A plug of tobacco
the size of a baseball filled his cheek. Catwalk said, “That’s
right. I’m Catwalk Jackson, this is Curly Levitz.”

The guy flung words at them, then spit a wad
of sewage onto the pier for exclamation. “How much seaplane time
you got?” Patooey!

Curly said, “We don’t have any seaplane
time. We flew Jennys and airliners like the Boeing Model 80. He
flew DC-3s.”

“
What?” Patooey! “No
seaplane time?” He barked what was supposed to be a laugh. “A
couple of crappin’-pee-shit tenderfoot greenhorns.” Patooey! He
looked over the two pilots like someone assessing a steer. “Well,
I’m up agin’ it, an’ need someone to fly. I’ll see what you’re made
of.”

He knelt on the dock and pointed to the
floats that kept the seaplane on top of the water. “See that step
on bottom of the float? You gotta’ remember that. If you got a
heavy load and you can’t get up on that step, you can go ‘til your
tank runs dry and you won’t get off the water.”

He walked up close to Catwalk, spit and
said, “Here’s how it is. I don’t care what color a man is; he can
be green, yellow, red or blue, I don’t care. I judge him on two
things: courage and good judgment.” Patooey! “You have those, you
can fly the bush for years. You don’t, you kill yourself and
whoever’s with you. You ever fly a Detroiter?”

“
No, but I can fly
it.”

“
Unh-huh. Get in the left
seat.” He turned to Curly and spat, “You, get in back.”

Catwalk buckled in and looked over the
instrument panel. It was bare compared to the DC-3 and he knew why.
In Alaska, the bush pilots didn’t fly on instruments and very few
had radios. Seat of the pants flying by needle, ball, airspeed and
altimeter was the only way here.

“
Here’s what you need to
know about flyin’ a floatplane.” He turned to Curly, “You listen to
this good.” He spit into a beer can. “Don’t try to turn downwind
with power; it’ll tip you over. Just let the plane weathervane into
the wind. Don’t try to turn a seaplane at all in a high wind. You
tack it and sail it like a sailing ship, back and forth. Don’t try
taxiing at half throttle; you’ll ruin your engine. Either taxi
slow, or put the plane up on the step an’ your engine will run
cool.”

Again he turned to Curly, “You got all
that?”

“
I got it.”

Catwalk smiled because he knew Curly didn’t
like Hank’s demeanor. He hoped his side-kick didn’t say anything
that would cost them a job.

“
Good, you guys might not
be so worthless after all.” He shook a finger at Catwalk. “Now, you
gotta keep the nose up, or your prop will pick up spray, an’ it
might hit the waves. That’ll ruin your prop. Ya’ wanna’ be real
careful landing on glassy water. Sometimes you get a reflection off
the bottom of a clear lake and it fools you. Last, don’t drift a
ship backwards in high wind without power on. You do, an’ the
floats and tail will dig in and you’ll sink tail first. You don’t
want to do that, do you?”

Catwalk looked at Hank and said, “Sinking
doesn’t interest me in the least.”

“
Good.” Spit. “Your wind
is northwest about eight knots. You got a light chop, but that’s
the best kind of water for a seaplane, just a little chop to let
you know there’s water under your plane. O.K., full back pressure
on that wheel and let the speed lift you out of the water. Take-off
northwest and turn up that valley at two o’clock.”

Curly looked at the valley and swore he saw
a fog bank lying in the valley. He thought, nah, this guy ain’t
crazy enough to fly into the fog. It must look different up
here.

Catwalk taxied away from the dock and
remembered the warning about turning into the wind. When he was a
safe distance from the dock he let the plane weathervane and
applied take-off power. He held the wheel full back and waited for
the plane to rise onto the step. When his speed built, the plane
broke the bond with the water and they were airborne.

Hank liked it. “By God damn, you remembered
what I tole’ you. You’re gonna’ be a bush pilot, son.”

When they turned into the valley, Curly
found his assessment of the fog was right on. Catwalk asked, “You
want me to climb above that fog?”

“
Not on your life, boy.
You get right down on that river bed and fly the river.” He turned
to Curly, “There’s a hell of a lot of bad weather up here, an’
storms build before you can blink an eye. That’s why you gotta
learn to fly in the weather instead of going around it. You get
above the fog and run into a storm, you can’t get back down through
the soup. This-a-way, you’re down here where it’s safe.”

Catwalk flew into the bottom of the fog,
keeping the river in sight below him. Hank went on, “One thing you
got to remember boys, there ain’t no mountains in the middle of a
river. You stay down on the river bed and you’ll never hit nothin’,
just keep your eye out for the moose. I been so low I almost hit a
few. Then, when you’re ready to land, you jes’ set her down. But,
watch out for sand bars. You’ll learn where they are.”

Catwalk flew for thirty minutes and came to
Blueberry Lake. The weather had cleared so he felt more
comfortable, but he was apprehensive about his first landing on
water. He turned into the wind and Hank started again. “Now, boys,
one thing you gotta learn is, you gotta learn how to read the
water. This is the most important thing about flying a float plane.
You don’t learn to read the water and you’ll be back flying your
Boeings, if you don’t die first. This lake ain’t bad ‘cause there’s
no current like there is on a river, but it’s kinda’ rough today.
Use a full stall so you got the least forward speed. The closer you
can land to the upwind shore, the calmer the water will be.”

Catwalk set up a final approach and about
ten feet above the water, killed his forward speed and stalled just
before the floats entered the water. The landing felt rough to him,
but Hank nodded his head. He took that as a passing grade.

They pulled the plane onto the shore where
they changed pilots. While Hank went to take a leak, Catwalk told
Curly, “Just do as he says. Don’t say anything that’ll blow this
job.”

“
Oh, I won’t, but that
guy’s a real turd.”

Curly had some trouble taxiing upwind, but
finally got the hang of it. They flew back to Valdez through a pass
that took them to the shoreline of Prince William Sound and over
the fishing village of Tatitlek. Catwalk knew this type of flying
was going to take getting used to because throughout his whole
flying career he’d been avoiding weather, and now he had to learn
to operate in the weather.

Once they landed at Valdez, Hank said, “You
boys done pretty good. I want you to make some touch and goes and
practice taxiing. Tonight we take your first night flight over to
Lake Hood, then day after tomorrow you go to work. I got a gov’ment
contract to fly some fellows from the Fish and Game Department
‘tween here and Fairbanks and Bettles. Be ready to see the country
by then. If you get forced down by a storm, you might have to camp
in the plane for a couple days, so here’s what you gotta take with
you: a Coleman heater and stove, four days of food and water,
plenty of warm clothes, and something to read. That’s for you, for
your plane you take blankets to wrap your engine in and gear to
drain the oil so it don’t freeze. You wanna’ be prepared, ‘cause it
might be forty below outside.”

After Hank left Catwalk looked at Curly and
smiled. Curly said, “Camping in a plane for four days. Shit, I’ll
go crazy sitting in a plane for that long.”

“
That’s why you bring
something to read.”

Curly lit a cigarette and said, “Cat, what
the hell have we got ourselves into?”

Their night flight wasn’t much different
than flying the daytime, as long as they kept the instrument lights
turned down, so they didn’t ruin their night vision. This time of
year there wasn’t much nighttime in Alaska, but in six months there
would be very little day time. After the flight they went back to
the room they’d rented. Curly walked across the street to a bar and
Catwalk tore into a Jack London novel.

Curly came back in fifteen minutes and said,
“Cat, you can come over and have a drink if you want to, There’s a
couple other black guys in there.”

“
You’re kidding
me?”

“
No, come on.”

Catwalk followed Curly into the bar. He saw
three other black men in sitting at the bar and because of this he
didn’t feel the stares that he usually got. It felt incredibly
liberating to be able to walk in and be one of the guys and get
served like anyone else. He was halfway through his first beer when
he struck up a conversation with a burly guy next to him. The guy
seemed interested that he and Curly were learning to be bush
pilots.

“
Where’d you guys fly in
the states?”

Catwalk said, “We flew out of Albuquerque
for Rocky Mountain Airways.”

By now a few other onlookers had gathered to
hear about the two new pilots. One man said, “Bullshit! You guys
look too young to be airline pilots.”

Curly immediately got in the guy’s face,
“Listen, Buster, not only did we fly for Rocky Mountain, he was
president of the airline.”