Lou’s View: THE PIPER AZTEC
By Lou Bernard
In the past, I’ve been involved with the Piper Aviation Museum. Though it’s been a while since I’ve helped out there, I still feel some affection for the place, and my son and I recently dropped by to visit. I got to know the history of Piper Aviation, and I got to know a lot of the planes. It got to the point where I could recognize some of them from the ground as they flew over.
I know the Cub and the Grasshopper, the Navajo and the Comanche. It’s easy to recognize a Tri-Pacer. But out of all of them, my favorite would have to be the Piper Aztec.
The Aztec was developed in the late 1950s. It seats four, and has low wings with the propellers on the wings—That’s the best way I can describe it; I’m not an engineer. But the thing I like about the Aztec is that this plane was designed specifically for adventure.
The Aztec was created to be a tough, hardy plane, made to fly into daring escapades. I mean, I’m sure that’s not the way the designers phrased it, but that’s the upshot of it. It could go over a thousand miles before stopping to refuel. The first twenty of them went to the Navy.
The museum has an Aztec on display—It was always my favorite plane in the hangar. It’s a beautiful white model with red stripes, pressurized, and donated by Mississippi State University on the condition it never again be flown. I have a Facebook profile photo of me standing beside it.
There’s even an Aztec stranded at the South Pole. This is because of Max Conrad, a local pilot known as the Flying Grandfather. Conrad began setting flying records at age forty-seven when he flew to England to visit his ten children. (Which also may have been some sort of record.) He lived in the Fallon Hotel for a while before moving into a hangar at the airport. Mostly, Conrad flew an Aztec. He had a favorite one that he named the “Saint Louis Woman.”
Max Conrad was known for setting records. He removed passenger seats from his Aztec to install extra fuel tanks. In November of 1968, he attempted to fly around the world over both poles, a distance of 33,400 miles. (Incidentally, who goes out and measures this stuff?) Though he made a valiant attempt, he didn’t make it due to bad weather.
In 1970, he tried again. This time he reversed the route, going over the North Pole first, and then heading south. He didn’t make it this time, either—Though you have to respect the guy for his incredible attempts—And became the first civilian aircraft ever to make an emergency landing at the South Pole.
He wrote a letter home from there, and made the journey home himself a few days later. Some time after that, he went back to retrieve the Aztec, but couldn’t. He rescued his wallet and a set of keys to the Fallon, but the Aztec couldn’t be salvaged.
It’s still there, someplace, down in Antarctica. I’ve tried to spot it on Google Maps with no luck—It’s probably covered with ice. But that’s the kind of thing I love about the Aztec—It’s a plane made for adventure. If you wanted to be daring, set records, do amazing aerial events, that was the plane for you.
I can’t do any of that stuff, of course. My wife won’t let me. But I can write a column about it, which will have to do. And when my son and I stopped by to visit the museum, I made sure to go through the hangar and take a look at the Aztec on display. My personal favorite. It was really good to see it again.
